REV,    C.  J.  ABBEY 


FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 


REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.  D.  D. 


BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE    LIBRARY   OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


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,a<fjL 


RELIGIOUS    THOUGHT    IN    OLD    ENGLISH 
VERSE 


/  X^'^^  OF  f  Hl^ 

RELIGIOUS    THOI^X^^Ss 


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IN 


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OLD   ENGLISH   VERSE 


BY 


// 


REV.     C.     J.     ABBEY 

RECTOR  OF  CHECKENDOX,  OXON. 
LATE  FELLOW  OF  UNIVERSITY  COLLEGE,  OXFORD 


LONDON 
SAMPSON    LOW,    MARSTON    d-   COMPANY 

Fetter  Lane,  Fleet  Street,  E.C. 
1892 


AH  rights  reserved 


PRE  FACE 

In  the  following  pages  I  have  endeavoured  to 
illustrate  the  main  current  of  religious  thought  in 
English  poetry  through  the  long  period  of  iioo  years 
which  elapsed  between  Caedmon  and  the  end  of  the 
last  century.  I  am  careful  to  say  the  main  current. 
It  has  been  an  interest  and  a  pleasure  to  me  to  trace 
through  each  passing  century  the  general  stream  of 
religious  thought  flowing  steadily  and  calmly  on, 
affected  far  less  than  might  have  been  expected  by 
the  changing  circumstances  and  questions  of  the  time. 
Those  deeper  and  more  personal  feelings  which  so 
often  find  a  natural  and  appropriate  vent  in  poetry 
have  little  in  common  with  the  spirit  of  controversy. 
In  religious  poetry,  so  far  as  it  is  the  language  of  the 
heart,  even  the  Reformation  itself,  great  as  the  move- 
ment was,  made  itself  felt  not  so  much  in  the  disputa- 
tious and  argumentative  form  which  it  displayed  in 
most  prose  writings  of  that  period,  but  simply,  for  the 
most  part,  in  the  evident  enlargement  of  the  general 
field  of  graver  thought.  Not  unfrequently,  it  would  be 
difificult  to  determine  from  internal  evidence  on  which 
side  the  writer  of  the  poem  had  ranged  himself  Often 
again,  although  the  theological  views  of  the  author  are 
obvious  enough,  they  serve  chiefly  to  tone  the  feeling 


vi  •  Preface 

and  colour  the  language  without  in  any  way  withdraw- 
ing the  poem  as  a  whole  from  that  common  stock  of 
Christian  literature  in  which  all  may  find  sympathy 
and  interest.  In  compiling  this  work,  I  have  never,  in 
the  writings  of  any  century,  found  the  slightest  diffi- 
culty in  selecting  passages  which  would  not  be  likely 
to  jar  discordantly  with  the  distinctive  religious  or 
ecclesiastical  opinions  of  the  great  majority  of  my 
readers.  Though  I  have  always  kept  this  purpose  in 
view,  I  have  hardly  ever  found  that  it  formed  any 
hindrance  to  the  choice  of  such  lines  as  seemed  to  me 
on  other  grounds  most  adapted  for  quotation,  either 
for  the  interest  of  their  thought,  or  the  beauty  of  their 
language,  or  as  characteristic  and  illustrative  of  their 
writer. 

The  earliest  English  is  of  course  to  all  practical 
purposes  a  different  language  from  our  own.  Funda- 
mentally the  same  from  the  very  beginning,  its  identity 
is  so  disguised  by  disused  inflections,  by  changed 
orthography,  by  obsolete  words,  by  local  dialect,  and  by 
all  the  manifold  changes  which  attended  a  language 
in  full  process  of  growth,  and  perpetuated,  until  the 
invention  of  printing,  only  by  manuscript  or  word  of 
mouth, — that  all  the  earlier  portion  of  these  volumes 
would  have  been,  to  a  great  extent,  unintelligible  to 
other  than  learned  readers,  if  I  had  quoted  passages  in 
their  original  form.  I  have  therefore  rendered  them 
into  ordinary  English,  endeavouring  always  to  make  as 
little  change  as  was  compatible  with  converting  them 
into  a  thoroughly  readable  form.    I  have,  however,  made 


Preface  vii 

it  a  general  rule  to  give  in  a  footnote  the  first  line  or 
two  of  each  extract  in  its  original  form.  I  have  con- 
tinued to  the  last  to  give  the  modern  spelling.  I 
thought  on  the  whole  that  some  loss  of  freshness  and 
individuality  would  be  more  than  compensated  by  the 
convenience  of  reading  without  any  needless  distraction 
in  the  form.  As  regards  early  English  and  its  dialects, 
I  should  add  that  I  have  no  pretension  to  personal 
scholarship  on  this  subject,  but  that  the  admirable 
glossaries  provided  by  the  Early  English  Text  Society 
and  by  other  editors  greatly  facilitated  a  task  which 
otherwise  might  have  been  beyond  my  power.  As  it 
is,  I  do  not  think  I  have  made  any  serious  mistakes  in 
my  renderings. 

I  have  pleasure  in  mentioning  the  special  thanks 
I  owe  to  Mr.  Palgrave,  Professor  of  Poetry  in  the 
University  of  Oxford,  for  some  valuable  suggestions 
and  information,  and  for  the  kind  spontaneous  loan  of 
many  of  his  books.  I  have  made  some,  but  only  a 
very  sparing  use  of  his  excellent  Treasury  of  Sacred 
Song.  Indeed,  I  had  very  nearly  completed  my  task 
prior  to  the  publication  of  that  work. 


CONTE  NTS 


CHAPTER   I 


FROM    C^DMON    TO   THE    CONQUEST 


PAGE 

PAGE 

Ccedmon, 

I 

'  The  Wanderer/    . 

.      14 

Vercelli  Codex 

6 

'  The  Wonders  of  Creation,"     .      15 

Aldhelm, 

7 

'The  Sea  Farer,'    . 

.      16 

Beowulf, 

7 

'  The  Departed  Soul's 

Address 

Cynewulf, 

. 

8 

to  the  Body,' 

■      17 

'  Legend  of  St. 

Andrew,' 

9 

'The  Supplication,' 

•      17 

Exeter  Codex, 

II 

Bede,      . 

,      18 

'  Legend  of  St. 

Guthlac,' 

13 

Salomon  and  Saturn, 

•      19 

CHAPTER   II 


THE    TWELFTH    AND    THIRTEENTH    CENTURIES 


The  Proverbs  of  Alfred, 

Godric,  . 

Orm  or  Ormin, 

Nicholas  de  Guildford, 

Layamon, 

'  Story  ^    of       Genesis 

Exodus,' 
The  Bestiaries, 
'  Poema  Morale,'     . 
'  The  Passion  of  Our  Lord, 
'  Sinner  Beware,'     . 
Thomas  Hales, 
*  Orison  of  Our  Lord,'     . 
'  Song  on  the  Passion,'    . 
'  Duty  of  Christians,' 
'Three  Sorrowful  Tidings,' 
'A  Lutel  Soth  Sermoun,' 


and 


23 

'  St.  Margaret,' 

41 

24 

'  The  Crucifixion,'  . 

42 

25 

'  The  Assumption,' 

42 

29 

'  Hymn  to  God,'     . 

43 

30 

'  Hymn  to  Our  Saviour," 

43 

1 

'  Cursor  Mundi,'      . 

45 

32 

Robert  of  Gloucester,' 

47 

34 

Early  Romances,     . 

49 

35 

'  King  Horn,' 

49 

•     36 

'  Havelok  the  Dane,'  . 

50 

•     37 

'  Floriz  and  Blancheflur,' 

51 

•     37 

'Arthur,'     . 

51 

■     38 

'Joseph  of  Arimathea,' 

53 

•     38 

'  Merlin,'     . 

54 

•     39 

'  Sir  Launcelot,'  . 

54 

•     39 

'  Morte  Arthure," 

55 

.     40 

'  Sir  Gawaine,'    . 

56 

Contents 


CHAPTER    III 


THE    FOURTEENTH    CENTURY 


Early  English  Psalter,     . 
'  The  Pearl,"  .... 
'The  Clean  of  Heart,"     . 
'Jonah,'  .... 

Robert    Mannyng,  de   Brunne 

('  The  Handlyng  vSynne'),  . 
Adam  Davy,  .... 
'Precepts  from  Ecclesiasticus,' 
'  A    Song  of  Joy   for   Christ's 

Coming,'     .... 
William  de  Shoreham,    . 
Richard    Rolle    ('The    Pricke 

of  Conscience  ■ ),  . 


PAOE 

PAGE 

58 

Dan     Michel     of     Northgate 

60 

('The  Ayenbitoflnwyt,')    . 

74 

62 

William     Langland      ('"Vision 

63 

concerning  Piers  Plowman'), 

74 

Lawrence  Minot,    . 

78 

65 

Geoffrey  Chaucer,  . 

79 

71 

John  Gower,  .... 

80 

71 

'  Symbols  of  the  Passion,' 

82 

Alphabet  Verses,     . 

^l 

72 

'  Quia  Amore  Langueo,' 

83 

72 

'  How  the  Goode  Wif  thaught 

hir  Daughter,'     . 

85 

1Z 

John  Barbour, 

86 

CHAPTER   IV 


THE    FIFTEENTH    CENTURY 


John  Lydgate, 

88 

Robert  Henry  son, 

109 

William  Billyng,   . 

90 

'  Ratis  Raving,'     . 

III 

Thomas  Brampton, 

91 

William  Dunbar,  . 

112 

John  Audelay, 

93 

Gavin  Douglas,      . 

113 

'  The  Service  of  the  Church," 

96 

Miracle-Plays, 

114 

'  The  Complaint  of  Christ," 

96 

'  Noah,'     . 

116 

Richard  de  Castro, 

98 

'  The  Nativity,' 

118 

'  The  Love  of  Jesus," 

99 

'The  Crucifixion,' 

120 

'  The  Periods  of  Man's  Life," 

99 

'The  Descent  into  Hell," 

120 

'  Revertere,' 

100 

'  Mary  Magdalene,' 

, 

121 

'  Now  is  well,' 

lOI 

'  Christ's  Entry  into 

Jeru 

'  Though  thou  be'st  king." 

lOI 

salem,' 

121 

Vision  of  Philibcrt, 

lOI 

'The  Purification,' 

122 

John  Wotton, 

102 

'  The    Temptation  ' 

(John 

'  Christ's  Pleading," 

103 

Bale), 

124 

Early  Carols, 

104 

*  Godlie  Queene  Hes 

er," 

125 

James  i.  of  Scotland,     . 

108 

Contents 


XI 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   SIXTEENTH    CENTURY 

PAGE 

PAGE 

Stephen  Hawes,    . 

127 

Edmund  Spenser, 

153 

Sir  Thomas  More, 

128 

William  Shakespeare,    . 

156 

Anne  Askewe, 

129 

Abraham  Fraunce, 

158 

John  Croke, 

129 

Henry  Lok,  . 

159 

Miles  Coverdale,  . 

130 

Robert  Southwell, 

160 

Sir  Thomas  Wyat, 

132 

Richard  Denys,     . 

164 

Earl  of  Surrey, 

133 

Barnaby  Barnes,    . 

164 

Lord  Vaux,  . 

134 

Henry  Constable, 

165 

John  Haryngton,  . 

135 

William  Hunnis,  . 

165 

Walter,  Earl  of  Essex,  . 

136 

Edward  Bolton,     . 

166 

Robert,  Earl  of  Essex,  . 

136 

Samuel  Rowlands, 

168 

Francis  Kynwelmersh,  . 

137 

Gervase  Markham, 

169 

Jasper  Heywood,  . 

138 

Samuel  Nicholson, 

169 

Robert  Crowley,    . 

138 

'  Here  is  the  Spring,'     . 

170 

Thomas  Tusser,    . 

141 

Fulke  Greville,  Lord  Brooke 

,     171 

'  Say  well  and  Do  well,' 

141 

Sir  John  Davies,    . 

174 

Richard  Edwards, 

142 

John  Danyel, 

176 

Archbishop  Parker, 

143 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh, 

176 

Francis  Thynne,   . 

143 

'Jerusalem,' 

178 

'  The  Shippe  of  Safegardc,' 

144 

Carols, 

179 

Thomas  Proctor,  . 

144 

Miles  Coverdale's  Psalms, 

179 

Nicholas  Breton,  . 

144 

Thomas  Sternhold, 

180 

*  Songe      of     the     Lambe' 

*  The      Gude      and      Godli 

Feast,' 

145 

Ballates'      (J.      and      R 

Thomas  Becon,     . 

145 

Wedderburn),    . 

180 

George  Gascoigne, 

146 

Sir  David  Lyndesay, 

185 

Sir  Phijip  Sydney, 

148 

The  Bannatyne  MS., 

188 

Countess  of  Pembroke,  . 

150 

William  Lauder,   . 

189 

Humphrey  Gifford, 

151 

Alexander  Montgomery, 

190 

William  Byrd,       . 

153 

Alexander  Hume, 

191 

Thomas  Churchyard,     . 

153 

James  I.  of  England,     . 

192 

C 

,HAP1 

'ER   VI 

THE   SE 

VENTEE 

NTH   CENTURY 

Lord  Bacon, 

195 

Phineas  Fletcher, 

201 

Princess  Elizabeth, 

197 

Giles  Fletcher, 

202 

Sir  John  Harington, 

198 

Thomas  Pestel.     . 

205 

Sir  John  Beaumont, 

.       198 

Ben  Jonson, 

206 

xu 


Contents 


PAGE    1 

Patrick  Hannay,    . 

208  1 

Nicholas  Billingsly, 

Michael  Drayton, 

210 

John  Austin, 

John  Donne, 

211   j 

Henry  King,  Bishop, 

George  Herbert,   . 

214  1 

Richard  Crashaw, 

Robert  Aylet, 

219 

John  Quarles, 

Thomas  Campion, 

220 

Abraham  Cowley, 

John  Amner, 

220  i 

Edmund  Waller,  . 

William  Loe, 

221 

— —  Wigglesworth, 

Charles  Fitzgeoffrey, 

222 

Robert  Herrick,    . 

George  Sandys,     . 

223 

John  Milton, 

Sir  Henry  Wotton, 

223 

Andrew  Marvxil,  . 

Sir   W.    Alexander    (Earl    o 

Nicholas  Postgate, 

Stirling),   . 

225 

Sir  Thomas  Browne, 

William  Cartwright, 

225 

Samuel  Grossman, 

Francis  Quarles,    . 

226 

'A  Small  Garland,'  etc. 

. 

Alexander  Rosse,  . 

230 

Henry  More, 

Patrick  Carey, 

233 

Earl  of  Roscommon, 

William  Drummond, 

235 

Theophilus  Dorrington, 

Joseph  Beaumont, 

237 

Charles  Cotton,     . 

Joseph  Hall, 

239 

Sir  William  Davenant, 

Francis  Row, 

240 

John  Bunyan, 

William  Bradford, 

.     240 

Thomas  Flatman, 

Peter  Heylyn, 

.     241 

Richard  Baxter,    . 

Earl  of  Westmoreland,  . 

.     241 

John  Mason, 

William  Habington, 

.     242 

Henry  Vaughan,    . 

Christopher  TIarvey, 

•     244 

Sir  Edward  Sherburne, 

Thomas  Fuller,      . 

.     246 

John  Dryden, 

Richard  Standfast, 

•     247 

John  Norris, 

James  Shirley, 

.     248 

James  Chamberlayne, 

Jeremy  Taylor,  Bishop, 

.     248 

Thomas  Shepherd, 

George  Wither,     . 

.     250 

John  Pomfret, 

CHAPTER    VII 


THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY 


Thomas  Ken,  Bishop,   . 

308 

Matthew  Prior, 

Lady  Chudleigh,  . 

310 

John  Hughes, 

Countess  of  Winchelsea, 

310 

Elizabeth  Thomas, 

Elizabeth  Rowe,  . 

311 

Joseph  Addison,    . 

Samuel  Wesley,  sen.,     . 

314 

Alexander  Pope,   . 

Samuel  Wesley,  jun.,    . 

316 

John  Gay,     . 

Sir  Richard  Blackmore. 

316 

Thomas  Tickell,   . 

Thomas  Parnell,    . 

320 

William  Broome,  . 

Contents 


xiu 


PAGE     I 

Aaron  Hill,  .         .  .  -338 
Old  and  New  Psalm  Versions,     339 

Psalms  and  Hymns,  .  .     343 

Isaac  Watts,  .  .  .     347 

Philip  Doddridge,  .  .     354  I 

Simon  Browne,     .  .  .     358 

Joseph  Stennett,   .  .  .     358 

James  Thomson,   .  .  .     359 

Edward  Young,     .  .  .     365 

Robert  Blair,  .  .368 

Mark  Akenside,    .  .  .     369 

William  Hamilton,  .  .     370 

Walter  Harte,        .  -371 

Thomas  Gray,  .     373 

WiUiam  Mason,    .  .  .     375 

Samuel  Johnson,  .  .  .     378 

Oliver  Goldsmith,  .  .     379 

William  Shenstone,  .  .     379 

Samuel  Boyse,       .  .  .     379 

William  Thompson,  .  .     380 

Christopher  Smart,  .  .     380 

John  Byrom,  ,  .  381 

John  Gambold,      ,  .  .     383 

James  Merrick,      .  .  384 

Thomas  Chatterton,  .  .     385 

Elizabeth  Carter,  .  .386 

Hymnody    of    the  Methodist 

AND  Evangelical  Revival: 

Charles  Wesley, 

John  Wesley,    . 

W^illiam  Williams, 

Robert  Seagrave, 

John  Cennick,  . 

William  Hammond,  . 

Thomas  Olivers, 

John  Bakewell, 

John  Beveridge, 

Commander  Kempenfelt, 

Rowland  Hill,  . 

Robert  Robinson, 


387 
392 
393 
393 
393 
394 
394 
395 
396 
396 
396 
398 


Joseph  Hart, 

Anne  Steele, 

Samuel  Stennett, 

Samuel  Medley, 

Edward  Perronet, 

Dr.  Gibbons,     . 

Other  Hymn-writers 

Walter  Shirley, 

Thomas  Haweis, 

Augustus  Toplady, 

William  Romaine, 

John  Newton,    . 

William  Cowper's  hymns, 

Other  Hymn-writers, 
Moses  Brown, 
Philip  Skelton,      . 
Nathaniel  Cotton, 
William  Cowper,  . 
Hannah  More, 
The  Poets  and  Slave-Eman 

cipation,    . 
James  Hurdis, 
Anna  L.  Barbauld, 
George  Crabbe,     . 
William  Blake,      . 
Samuel  T.  Coleridge 
Robert  Southey,    . 
William  Wordsworth 
Charles  Lamb, 
Thomas  Campbell, 
Robert  Burns, 
James  Beattie, 
James  Grahame,    . 
Ralph  Erskine,      . 
Thomas  Blacklock, 
Michael  Bruce, 
Logan  ;  Cameron  ;  Morrison 

H.  Blair,  .  .  .         , 

General  remarks  on  the  Sacred 

Poetr}-  of  1 8th  Century 


Index, 


448 


449 


453 


RELIGIOUS    THOUGHT    IN 
OLD    ENGLISH    VERSE 

CHAPTER    I 

FROM   C^DMON   TO    THE   CONQUEST 

The  century  and  a  half  which  followed  the  introduction 
of  Christianity  into  Anglo-Saxon  England  was  a  most 
eventful  period,  and  very  fruitful  in  social  advancement. 
Between  the  landing  of  Augustine,  in  597,  and  the 
death  of  Bede,  in  735,  the  nation,  in  embracing  Chris- 
tianity, took  quite  a  new  form,  passed  out  of  savagery 
into  comparative  civilisation,  and  started  firmly  on  the 
progressive  course  that  henceforth  lay  before  it.  It  was 
in  about  the  middle  of  this  period  that  Csedmon  wrote 
— the  first  of  our  sacred  poets,  and  well  worthy  to  head 
the  (ong  roll  which  was  to  follow.  He  died  about  680  ; 
and  his  remarkable  poems  on  the  Creation  and  other 
biblical  subjects  were  written  between  the  middle  of  the 
seventh  century  and  that  date.  His  life  carries  us  back 
almost  to  the  dawn  of  Christianity  in  England.  Hilda, 
a  lady  of  royal  blood,  the  noble-hearted  prioress  of  his 
convent  at  Whitby,  had  been  converted  to  the  faith  by 
Paulinus,  first  bearer  of  the  Gospel  to  the  English  of 
Northumbria.  She  had  remained  staunch  to  her  re- 
ligion through  the  time  of  heathen  reaction  which 
followed  upon  Edwin's  defeat  by  Penda.  When  new 
missionaries  had  been  called  in  from  lona,  and  Cuthbert 
was  winning  himself  a  saintly  memory  by  his  aposto- 
lical labours  in  the  northern  counties,  Hilda,  no  less 
venerated  than  he,  was  a  sort  of  prophetess  among  her 

A 


2  Religious  Thought  in 

people,  consulted  by  kings  and  bishops,  and  gaining  a 
special  fame  to  her  religious  house  by  the  unusual  know- 
ledge of  Scripture  which  distinguished  the  priests  and 
monks  who  had  been  trained  there. 

In  this  monastery  Caedmon  was  one  of  the  humblest 
dependants,  a  poor  neat-herd,  ignorant  of  Latin  and 
unable  to  read.  A  man  of  grave  and  earnest  tempera- 
ment, he  loved  to  listen  to  narratives  from  Scripture, 
and  to  muse  upon  them  afterwards  ;  but  had  little  taste 
for  the  minstrelsy  which  delighted  his  companions. 
When,  therefore,  on  any  festal  evening,  the  harp  was 
passed  round,  he  would  go  out  before  his  turn  arrived. 
I  continue  the  account  in  the  words  of  King  Alfred's 
translation  from  Bede  :  '  Now  it  so  happed  that  at  one 
tide  he  left  the  house  where  the  Ale  was  held,  and  went 
out  to  the  neat-stall,  the  ward  of  which  was  that  night 
trusted  to  him.  And  when  at  fitting  time  he  laid  his 
limbs  to  rest  and  slept,  there  stood  by  him  in  his  dream 
.some  man,  who  hailed  and  greeted  him,  and  named  him 
by  his  name,  "  Caedmon,  sing  me  somewise ! "  Then 
answered  he,  and  quoth :  "  I  cannot  sing  aught ;  and 
for  that  I  could  not,  I  went  forth  out  of  the  Ale,  and 
came  hither."  Then  quoth  he  that  was  speaking  to 
him,  "Yet  must  thou  sing  to  me."  Quoth  he,  'What 
shall  I  sing  ?  "  Quoth  he,  ''  Sing  to  me  of  the  beginning 
of  things."  When  he  got  this  answer,  then  'gan  he 
forthwith  to  sing,  in  praise  of  God  the  Maker,  verses  ^ 
and  words  which  he  had  never  heard.  And  the  burden 
of  them  is  this  : — 

Now  shall  we  praise  the  Uprearer  of  the  realm 
Of  the  high  heaven,  and  the  Maker's  might, 
And  His  mind's  wisdom,  Father  of  the  world  ; 
Yea,  of  all  wondrous  workings  He  hath  set 
The  first  forthcomings — Lord  for  evermore  ! 
He  for  earth's  children  roofed  the  round  of  heav^en. 
And  laid  this  lower  earth,  Holy  in  all. 
Guardian  of  men,  great  God  for  evermore.^ 

1  'Verses'  was  one  of  the  Latin  words  which  were  early  taken  into 
English  use. 

2  In  most  of  these  renderings  from  First  English,   something  of  the 
alliteration  of  the  original  has  been  preserved. 


Old  English  Verse  3 

*  Then  he  arose  from  sleep  and  held  fast  in  mind  all  that 
he  had  sung  while  sleeping,  and  put  together  with  them 
in  like  measure  many  other  words  of  God-worthy  song.'^ 

Such  is  the  story  how  Caedmon  began  to  be  a  bard 
of  Christian  verse.  Great — and  deservedly  great — grew 
his  fame.  His  prioress,  and  his  countrymen  far  and 
wide,  deemed  him  no  less  inspired  than  any  prophet  of 
old,  and  his  verses  became  to  the  popular  ear  a  sort  of 
English  Bible.  There  can  be  no  question  that  they 
influenced  largely  and  for  a  lengthened  time  the  tone 
of  religious  and  general  thought  in  early  England. 

It  is  a  striking  coincidence  that  just  a  thousand  years 
after  Caedmon  told  in  verse  the  story  of  Creation,  of  the 
apostate  angels,  and  of  Man's  temptation  and  fall,  the 
very  same  theme  should  have  been  again  handled  by 
the  greatest  of  our  sacred  poets.  Nor  was  it  a  mere 
coincidence.  Milton  appears  to  have  contemplated  the 
writing  of  Paradise  Lost  as  early  as  1642,  but  it  was 
not  till  1658  that  he  regularly  began  the  work.  Two 
years  before  this  date  the  poems  of  Caedmon  were 
printed  for  the  first  time  by  Milton's  old  friend,  Francis 
Dujon.  Francis  Junius  (for  this  is  the  name  by  which 
he  ^  better  known)  had  long  devoted  much  study  to 
the  Teutonic  languages.  The  one  extant  manuscript 
of  Caedmon  had  been  presented  to  him  by  Archbishop 
Usher,  and  it  is  in  every  way  probable  that  Milton  may 
have  conversed  with  his  friend  about  this  remarkable 
work  of  the  forefather  of  English  sacred  song,  and  have 
heard  extracts  from  it.  It  may  even  have  suggested 
the  subject  of  Paradise  Lost. 

The  following  lines  are  a  nearly  literal  rendering  from 
the  earlier  part  of  Caedmon's  story  of  Creation  : — 

Gladness  had  they  at  onset,  gleam  and  glow. 
That  throng  of  angels  :  bright  their  heavenly  bliss, 

^  These  verses  begin  in  the  original  thus  : 

Nu  we  sceolan  herian  heofon-riches  weard 
Metodes  mihte,  and  his  mod-gethone 
Wera  Waldor-foeder. 

— King  Alfred's  Anglo-Saxon  Trans,  of  Bede  ;  Thorpe's  Cccdiiion,  xxi. 


4  Religio2is  Thought  in 

Their  blitheness  great.     Thanes  throned  in  strength  on  high, 

They  loved  their  Lord  of  life,  and  with  full  heart 

Joyful  they  praised  their  King,  and  judged  themselves 

To  be  most  blessed  in  the  bliss  of  God. 

They  knew  no  sin,  they  worked  no  wickedness, 

But  lived  in  rest  with  Him  who  liveth  ever. 

Seeking  nought  else  in  Heaven  but  right  and  sooth. ^ 

Then,  later,  after  telling  how  pride  entered  into  the 
archangel's  heart,  and  how  the  rebel  spirits  were  hurled 
from  heaven,  and  how  earth  was  created,  that  by  God's 
new-born  creation  the  vacant  seats  might  be  replenished, 
the  poem  continues  : — 

Then  Satan,  sorrowing,  spake — he  who  should  sway 

In  hell  henceforth,  and  hold  its  gloomy  depths, 

God's  angel  heretofore,  white  in  the  heavens  ; 

Till  his  soul  spurred  him  on,  and  most  of  all 

An  overweening  heart,  that  he  would  ne'er 

Give  the  Lord's  mighty  word  its  worthy  meed. — 

So  seethed  sore  thoughts  within  him,  round  his  soul  ; 

And  hot  within  him  heaved  the  wrathful  fires. 

And  thus  he  quoth — brake  the  words  from  his  breast  : 

'  Oh,  how  unlike  is  this  strait  stead  of  woe 

To  that  which  erst  we  knew  in  heaven's  height, 

Which  my  Lord  laid  upon  me  !     Now  no  more 

Of  Him  who  wieldeth  all  things  must  we  own. 

Which  once  we  ruled,  our  realms  and  royalties. - 

Ah  !  might  I  wield  my  hands  I  and  might  one  tide 
Fare  forth  from  hence — one  only  winter's  span  1 

Then  would  I  with  this  crew But  round  me  lie^ 

These  iron  bonds,  rides  me  this  writhing  chain.' ^ 

As  a  sort  of  counterpart  to  Adam  and  Eve's  morning 
hymn  of  praise  to  their  Creator  in  Milton's  great  work, 
I  may  quote  from  Ca^dmon's  paraphrase  part  of  the 
Song  of  the  Three  Children  : — 

1  Hoesdon  gleam  and  dream  heora  ord-fruman 
Engla  threatas  ;  beorhte  blisse  : 
Wres  heora  bloed  micel,  thegnas  thrym-fa^ste. 

^  Satan  mathelode,  sorgiende  sprKcli,  sethe  helle  forth 
Healdan  sceolde,  gyman  thres  grundes. 

'  Wa  la  !  ahte  ic  minra  handa  geweald,  and  moste  ane  tid 
Ute  weorthan  wesan,  ane  winter-stunde, 
Thonnc  ic  mid  thys  werode — ac  licgath  me  ymbe 
Irenbendas,  rideth  racentan  sal. 


Old  English  Verse  5 

All  the  world-powers  in  their  beauteousness, 
Kind  Father,  bless  Thee  I  Thy  works  one  and  all. 
Heaven  and  angels,  .... 

the  stars  in  the  sky, 
Soft  showers  and  dews,  and  Thee  all  spirits  praise, 
O  Mighty  Lord  I     The  burning  fires,  the  bright 
Summer,  and  light  and  darkness,  nights  and  days, 
And  every  land,  each  hallow  in  their  kind 
The  great  Upholder.     Thee,  the  sleet  and  snow, 
The  bitter  wintry  weather,  fleeting  clouds. 
The  pale  bright  gleams  of  lightning,  all  earth's  depths, 
Highlands  and  hills,  bless  the  Eternal  Lord. 

And  Thee  Thy  holy  ones,  with  their  hearts'  strength — 
The  souls  and  spirits  of  all  righteous  men- 
Praise  Thee,  the  Lord  of  life.  Giver  of  boons. 

Father  of  Might,  Lord  of  each  kith  of  men  ! — 

True  Son  of  the  Creator,  Saviour  of  souls  ! 

Helper  of  men  I  we  praise  Thee  !  and  Thee,  Holy  Ghost, 

Giver  of  Wisdom  !  God  on  Thy  glory-seat, 

We  worship  Thee,  and  with  our  prayers  upraise.^ 

Quiet  as  Caedmon  was  in  his  peaceful  cell  at  Whitby, 
the  blood  of  a  warlike  race  stirred  within  him  whenever 
his  theme  led  him  to  tell  of  any  scene  of  battle.  There 
is  much  vividness  and  fire  in  the  lengthened  account 
which  he  gives  of  Abraham's  encounter  with  the  four 
kings.  So  also,  when  he  describes  the  approach  of 
Pharaoh's  army,  when  the  Israelites  were  encamped  by 
the  Red  Sea,  his  imagination  may  well  have  recurred 
to  hard-fought  battle-fields  where  his  countrymen  had 
met  the  hosts  of  Mercia,  and  to  moorland  ravens  and 
wolves  from  the  Cheviots  descending  on  the  scene  of 
carnage : — 

Then  waxed  the  warriors'  hearts 
Distrustful  :  for,  behold  I  forth  from  the  South, 
Athwart  the  holt,  a  glittering  array. 
Strode  on  the  strength  of  Pharaoh.     Now  were  spears 
Held  fast  for  onset  ;  onward  drew  the  war. 
With  clash  of  clanging  standards,  where  they  trod 
The  utmost  marches  of  the  Egyptian  land. 

^  Thorpe's  Cadnion,  liii.  : 

Dhe  gebletsige,  bylywit  Feeder, 
Woruld-crjefta  wlite. 


6  Religious  Thought  in 

The  dusky  birds  of  battle  screamed  around, 

A  dewy-feathered  throng,  thirsty  for  blood, 

As  scenting  slaughter,  and  the  wolves  howled  forth, 

Hungry  for  meat,  their  hateful  even-song.^ 

What  little  remains  of  Caedmon's  paraphrases  from 
the  New  Testament  seems  decidedly  inferior  to  those 
of  earlier  portions  of  the  Bible. 

In  a  manuscript  found  at  Vercelli  in  1822,  left  there 
apparently  by  some  early  English  pilgrim,  is  an  in- 
teresting poem  ascribed  on  some  reasonable  grounds  to 
Caedmon.  A  few  lines  of  it  occur  in  Runic  characters 
upon  the  Northumbrian  Cross  of  Ruthwell,  and  the 
name  of  Caedmon,  which  was  not,  however,  an  un- 
common one,  is  also  engraved  upon  the  stone.  The 
poem  is  mixed,  as  might  be  expected,  with  a  good  deal 
of  superstitious  reverence  for  the  actual  visible  cross, 
which  is  represented  as  telling  in  a  vision  its  own  story. 
But  this  materialism  is  so  intimately  joined  in  the  poem 
with  the  deepest  Christian  feeling,  that  it  readily  lends 
itself  to  a  more  purely  spiritual  conception  of  the  Cross 
of  Christ.  I  give  a  translation  of  the  latter  part  of  it 
in  modern  rhyme,  keeping  as  nearly  as  I  can  to  the 
original : — 

He  most  in  the  Doom  may  hope  for  rest 

Who  bears  in  his  bosom  of  signs  the  best. 

Who  seeks  through  the  might  of  the  Cross  to  dwell 

With  the  Lord,  whom  on  earth  he  had  loved  so  well. 

I  prayed  at  the  foot  of  the  Holy  Rood, 

Breathing  its  power,  and  blithe  of  mood, 

I  had  yearned  from  my  heart  for  an  end  of  life, 

Weary  of  longings,  faint  with  strife. 

But  now  I  would  live,  and  my  strength  shall  be 

Christ's  blessed  Cross  of  Victory  ; 

And,  oftener  and  more  than  the  world  around, 

I  will  seek  me  aid  on  that  holy  ground. 

Few  are  the  friends  who  can  serve  me  here  ; 

They  have  found  in  heaven  a  purer  sphere  : 

They  have  left  the  world,  and  they  learn  above, 

With  the  glorious  King,  a  Father's  love  : 

'  Thorpe's  Cadmon^  xlv.  : 

Tha  him  eorla  modh 
Ortrywe  weordh. 


Old  English  Verse  7 

And  I  daily  wait  for  the  blessed  morn, 

When  the  Cross  on  whose  arms  my  Lord  was  borne 

Shall  raise  me  from  this  poor  life  to  joy, 

To  eternal  bliss,  and  without  alloy. 

With  the  happy  saints,  in  the  feast  of  God. 

May  the  Lord  befriend  me,  on  earth  who  trod. 

And  who  died  for  man  on  the  Cross  of  Shame, 

Who  hath  loosed  our  bonds,  and  bid  us  claim 

Life,  and  a  heavenly  home.     He  died. 

And  in  souls  by  the  nether  fires  tried 

Was  quickened  anew  hope's  gladsome  light. 

When  the  Son  of  God,  with  conquering  might, 

Led  forth  to  the  realm  of  peace  the  throng 

Of  redeemed  spirits,  with  triumph  song, 

As  a  King  Almighty  ;  and  angel  choirs. 

And  saints  whom  the  love  of  heaven  inspires. 

Rejoiced  with  a  holy  joy  to  greet 

The  Lord  on  His  throne — His  rightful  seat.^ 

The  sacred  songs  of  Aldhelm,  Caedmon's  sainted 
contemporary  at  Malmesbury,  are  unfortunately  not 
extant.  He  was  a  scholar  of  renown,  and  wrote  various 
Latin  treatises,  but  was  well  aware  of  the  power  which 
verse  in  their  native  tongue  could  exercise  over  the 
miryds  of  a  rude  peasantry.  It  vexed  him  to  see  the 
people  rushing  back  into  the  country  from  the  mass 
without  one  further  thought  of  sacred  things.  And  so, 
abbot  though  he  was,  he  would  often  post  himself  as  a 
minstrel  on  the  bridge  and  check  them  in  their  haste 
by  charming  their  ear  with  song.  Then,  when  he  had 
thoroughly  gained  the  attention  of  the  throng,  he  would 
introduce  here  and  there  a  story  from  sacred  writ  or 
some  word  of  timely  admonition.  He  gained  more, 
says  the  Chronicler,  by  so  doing  than  if  he  had  dealt 
severely  and  '  cum  excommunicatione.' 

The  poem  of  Beowulf  may  date  in  its  existing  form 
from  the  beginning  of  the  eighth  century.  It  is  essen- 
tially a  Scandinavian  saga,  thoroughly  infused  with  the 
spirit  of  the  old  heathenism.     The  exploits  of  the  hero 

^  J.  M.  Kemble's  Poetry  of  the  Codex  Ve7relleiisis,  i^^-^:  'The  Holy 
Rood  :  a  Dream,'  lines  231-310  : 

Dhe  him  ger  in  breostum  beredh 
Beacna  selest. 


8  Religiotts  Thought  in 

from  whom  its  name  is  taken  are  told  in  it — how  he 
vanquished  Grindel,  the  horrible  monster  of  the  fens, 
and  lost  his  life  at  a  later  time  in  a  fierce  combat  with 
a  dragon.  But  here  and  there  Christian  passages  occur 
in  it,  probably  the  interpolations  of  Cynewulf  or  some 
other  English  poet.  Such,  for  instance,  are  the  follow- 
ing lines : — 

They  knew  not  Him  who  meted  earth  and  sky, 
The  Judge  of  deeds,  the  Lord,  the  mighty  God  ; 
They  knew  not  how  to  praise  the  Lord  of  heaven.^ 

And  later : — 

Yet  he  bethought  him  of  his  strength,  the  gift 
,  Which  largely  God  had  given  ;  and  holy  trust 

Had  he  in  Him  who  only  hath  the  sway. 
His  Stay  and  Hope,  and  so  o'ercame  the  foe. 
And  quenched  in  fight  the  grisly  fiend  of  hell. 

Such  also  are  the  words  expressive  of  hope  of  amend- 
ment and  amelioration  after  death  : — 

Well  shall  it  be  to  him  who  may 

After  his  death-day 

Seek  the  Lord, 

And  in  his  Father's  bosom 

Crave  peace.^ 

There  has  been  much  controversy  about  the  poet 
Cynewulf,  who  has  strangely  incorporated  his  name  in 
detached  Runic  characters  in  various  poems  preserved 
in  the  Exeter  and  Vercelli  Manuscripts.  According  to 
one  view,  he  did  not  live  till  the  age  preceding  the 
Norman  Conquest,  and  was  identical  with  Kenewulf, 
abbot  of  Peterborough,  who  died  in  1014.  Another 
leading  opinion  is  that  he  was  Cynewulf,  a  bishop  of 
Lindisfarne  in  780.  Professor  Morley  is  most  inclined 
to  the  belief  that  he  lived  in  the  eighth  century,  but 
that  he  was  neither  priest  nor  monk  ;  that  he  was  a 
man  of  noble  birth  who  had  taken  a  vigorous  part  in 

J  S.  Thorpe's  Bcowidph,  etc.,  1835,  vol.  ii.  : 

^f  etod  hie  ne  cuthon. 

-  Wei  bilh  thxm  the  mot 
y^fter  death  dcegc. 


Old  English  Verse  9 

the  life  and  action  of  his  age,  and  that  it  was  he  to 
whom  we  owe  the  beautiful  sea-faring  Ode  of  toilsome 
travel  told  in  TJie  Wanderer. 

Without  further  preface,  I  will  bring  before  the 
reader  some  passages  of  sacred  song,  most  of  them  by 
Cynewulf,  from  the  Vercelli  and  Exeter  books.  The 
Vercelli  Codex  opens  with  a  long  poem  entitled  The 
Legend  of  St.  Andrew.  It  tells  how  St.  Matthew 
carried  the  Gospel  to  the  Mermedonians,  a  race  of 
cannibals  and  sorcerers,  but  was  cast  in  prison,  and  had 
his  eyes  put  out.  A  drink  also  had  been  given  to  him 
which  drove  men  into  eating  grass  like  cattle.  His 
reason,  however,  was  preserved  to  him  by  the  special 
grace  of  God,  and  St.  Andrew  was  sent  to  release  him 
from  his  sufferings,  and  was  rowed  thither  by  three  men, 
who,  though  he  knew  it  not,  were  an  incarnation  of  the 
Holy  Trinity.  The  rest  of  the  poem  tells  of  the  deeds 
of  the  apostle  when  he  reached  the  land,  of  his  recovery 
of  St.  Matthew,  of  the  persecutions  he  endured,  of  the 
judgments  that  fell  upon  the  land,  and  of  the  final  con- 
version of  the  people.  We  may  notice  in  passing  how 
evidently  saintly  legends  of  this  kind  were  intended  to 
give  a  Christian  tone  to  the  minstrelsy  which  formed 
so  conspicuous  a  part  of  old  Teutonic  gatherings.  The 
story  begins  with  the  '  Hweat ! '  the  premonitory  signal 
of  the  harp,  and  then,  in  words  well  calculated  to  catch 
the  ear  of  a  warlike  race,  proceeds  to  tell  *  of  the  twelve 
who  in  days  of  yore  were  heroes  gloriously  blessed, 
servants  of  the  Lord,  the  renown  of  whose  warfare 
failed  not  when  banners  pressed.  These  were  famous 
men  throughout  the  earth,  pious  leaders  and  bold  in 
warfare,  brave  warriors,  when  shield  and  hand  guarded 
the  helmet  on  the  battle-field.' 

The  first  passage  I  will  quote  is  that  which  embodies 
the  mandate  of  Christ  to  go  forth  into  all  lands,  and 
preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature  : — 

Twas  Christ's  behest, 
The  (ilorious  King, — 
(We  are  His  thanes 


ro  Religious  Thought  m 


To  battle  bid)— 
Wielder  and  Worker, 
In  strength  of  sway, 
The  King  by  right, 
One  endless  God 
Of  all  things  made, 
Grasping  in  hold. 
With  holy  might, 
Both  earth  and  Heaven, — 
Great  Conqueror  I 

Himself  hath  said — 
Father  of  folk — 
And  bid  us  fare 
Past  yawning  depths 
To  save  Him  souls. 
'  Fare  forth  o'er  all 
Earth's  widest  span. 
Even  so  far 

As  the  vast  water  rounds, 
Or  as  the  steadfast  plains 
Stretch  on  your  way. 
Tell  forth  throughout  the  towns 
The  bright  belief. 
O'er  the  wide-bosomed  world. 
I  give  unto  you  peace  ; 
And  in  your  hearts 
I  whet  the  keen  set  will 
Of  truest  good.'  ^ 

The  second  passage  is  where  St.  Andrew  is  on  his 
way  to  Mermedonia.  A  great  storm  had  arisen,  and 
the  apostle  tells  the  mysterious  rowers  of  a  similar 
tempest  which  had  once  burst  over  the  Lake  of  Galilee 
when  Christ  was  in  the  boat : — 

So  did  it  hap  of  old  : 
We  on  the  sea-boat, 
Over  the  striving  surge, 
Riding  the  billows. 
Ventured  the  fords. 
Gruesome  and  grim  to  us 
Was  the  fell  water's  rage. 
Wildly  the  streaming  tide 
Beat  on  the  sea-board  ; 

^  Vercelli  Codex :  Legend  of  St,  Andrew^  644-72  :  '  Swa  thtet  Crist 
bebead. ' 


Old  English  Verse  1 1 

Flood  back  to  flood  again 

Answered  the  roar  ; 

While  there  arose 

From  its  deep  boiling  breast, 

On  to  the  boat's  lap, 

Terror  and  dread. 

There  the  Almighty  One, 

He  who  all  men  hath  made, 

On  the  surge-cleaving  ship 

Restfully  waited. 

But  our  men  became 

Filled  with  fear. 

And  through  the  keel-ship 

Calling  aloud, 

Prayed  for  peace. 

Boon  from  the  blessed. 

Soon  rose  the  King, 

Bliss-giver  to  angels  ; 

Stilled  the  waves, 

The  weltering  waters, 

Chode  the  wild  wind, 

And  the  sea  settled  ; 

The  eddied  tide-flood 

Waxed  smooth. 

Joy  our  hearts  cheered, 

When  that  we  saw 

Neath  the  high  sun-track, 

How  that  the  winds  and  waves. 

How  the  dread  water-flood. 

Was  scathed  und  scared, 

Fearing  the  Lord.^ 

The  Exeter  Codex  is  a  valuable  collection  of  early- 
English  poetry,  presented  by  Bishop  Leofric  to  his 
Cathedral  Church  about  the  middle  of  the  eleventh 
century.  Its  earlier  part  consists  of  hymns,  probably 
by  Cynewulf,  to  the  Saviour,  and  the  Virgin  Mary,  and 
on  the  Nativity,  the  Crucifixion,  the  Ascension,  the 
Harrowing  of  Hell,  and  the  Last  Judgment  The  tone 
of  them  all  is  gravely  devotional  and  very  earnest.  I 
give  a  rendering  of  part  of  one  on  the  Nativity: — 

Warder  and  Wielder, 

Maker  of  man, 

1   Vercelli  Codex,  875-920  : 

Swa  gesaelde  jii 
That  we  on  sae-bate. 


1 2  Religious  Thought  in 

Come,  and  Thy  mildness 
Tenderly  show  ! 
All  of  us  need  it  ; 
We,  Thy  mother's  kin, 
Yearn  to  Thy  mystery, 
Vainly  endeavouring 
To  know  the  Father. 

Bless  thou  this  mid-earth 
By  Thine  incoming. 
Saviour  Christ  I 
Ope  thou  the  golden  gates, — 
They  that  in  days  of  old 
Long  stood  locked. 
High  Lord  of  heaven. 
Seek  us,  O  seek  us, 
(Sorely  we  need  Thee) 
By  Thine  own  coming 
Lowly  to  earth  1 

The  wolf,  the  wicked  one. 
Ranging  in  darkness, 
Widely  hath  scattered, 
Lord,  Thy  flock. 
Which,  in  the  old  days, 
Thou  with  Thy  life-blood 
Hast  dearly  bought. 
He,  the  baleful  One, 
With  cruel  clutch, 
Though  our  souls  rebel. 
Holds  us  in  thrall. 

Wherefore  to  Thee,  O  Christ, 
Warder  and  Guard, 
Earnest,  from  depths  of  heart, 
Warmly  we  pray. 
Help  us,  Ol  speedily, 
lianished  from  heaven, 
Weary  and  faint. 

So  may  the  Slayer 
Into  the  gulph  of  hell 
With  scathe  be  driven  I 
So  may  Thy  handy  work, 
Moulder  of  men  I — 
With  right  arise 
Into  the  heavenly. 
The  noble  realm  I 
Whence  the  swart  spirit 
In  the  foul  lust  of  sin. 


Old  English  Verse  13 

Drew  and  beguiled  us, 
That  we  of  glory  reft 
Should  in  an  endless  harm 
Painfully  drudge. 

But  do  Thou  speedily, 
Lord  everlasting, 
Shield  of  all  beings, 
Quench  our  Destroyer, 
The  death  of  our  people, 
O  Living  God !  ^ 

The  Legend  of  St.  Guthlac  is  a  paraphrase  of  a  Latin 
poem  by  Felix  of  Croyland.  But  there  is  nothing  in  it 
of  the  stiffness  of  a  translation  from  an  alien  tongue. 
It  is  a  story  full  of  tender  devotional  feeling,  touchingly 
and  poetically  told.  Near  the  beginning  he  describes 
with  vivid  force  a  great  struggle  between  the  power  of 
good  and  evil  in  the  critical  turning-point  of  Guthlac's 
life.  Afterwards  comes  a  tale  of  sore  combats  with 
terrible  temptations,  of  angelic  comforters,  of  conquests 
over  evil,  and,  finally,  the  account  of  his  saintly  death. 
Here  is  a  fair  picture  of  the  Christian  life  : — 

They  in  their  breast  bear 

Bright  belief, 

Holy  Hope, 

A  clean  heart ; 

They  worship  the  Wielder. 

They  have  wise  thoughts, 

Hastening  on  their  onward  way 

To  their  Father's  home. 

They  speed  to  gear  the  Spirit's  house. 

And  with  wariness 

The  fiend  o'erfight, 

Brotherly  kin 

Are  fain  to  feel. 

After  God's  will. 

Their  souls  they  freight 

With  godly  cares ; 

Heaven's  king's  behests 

They  frame  on  earth's  fields. 

They  ban  all  baneful  spite. 

And  seek  prayer. 


^  Exeter  Codex  :  On  the  Nativity,  ed.  by  B.  Thorpe,  1842  :  pp.  15-17 
Cum  nu  sigores.' 


14  Religious  Thought  in 

Shrink  from  sin, 

Hold  sooth  and  right. 

They  shall  not  rue 

After  hence-going 

Into  the  holy  burgh. 

Forthwith  they  fare 

To  Jerusalem. 

There  they  for  aye 

In  happiness 

God's  face 

Gladly  behold, 

In  kin  and  friendship. 

There  in  sooth  they  dwell, 

Beauteous,  bright. 

For  furthest  length, 

In  the  bliss 

Of  the  land  of  the  living.^ 

The  Wanderer  is  the  pensive  reverie  of  an  aged 
man,  who,  long  ago,  had  lost  by  death  a  powerful  and 
generous  liege,  and  had  wandered  away  from  his 
country,  lonely  and  an  exile,  in  quest  of  a  new  home, 
sailing  through  the  rime  and  snows  of  the  Northern 
seas.  There  runs  throughout  it  a  strong  sense  of 
loneliness,  as  he  muses  over  the  ever-changing  tide  of 
the  world,  of  the  hardships  of  life,  the  manifold  forms 
of  death,  his  own  sad  memories,  his  dreams  of  home, 
his  recollections  of  good  friends  long  ago  departed. 
But  amidst  it  all  there  is  a  deep  spirit  of  pious  trustful- 
ness, and  of  firm  faith  in  the  guiding  hand  of  God.  It 
begins  with  gratitude  for  the  lovingkindness  he  had 
met  with,  and  ends  with  the  exclamation  : — 

O  well  for  him  who  seeketh  grace, 
And  comfort  of  his  Father's  face, 
In  whom  all  fastness  standeth.- 

The  poem  on  TJic  Endowments  and  Pursuits  of 
Men  is  like  some  Greek  choral  hymn,  passed  through 
a  Christian  mould.  It  tells  in  length  how  each  of  the 
dwellers    among    the    people    receives    from  God    his 


^  Exeter  Book y  150:  'Beradh  in  ])re6stum.' 

-  Id. :  The  Waudcre) ,  293  :  *  Wei  bidh  thani  llic  him  arc  secedh. 


Old  English  Verse  15 

separate  gifts,  in  wisdom  or  in  craft,  in  comeliness  or 
strength,  in  council  or  in  war,  in  eloquence,  in  skill  of 
books,  in  hymnody  and  song,  and  knowledge  of 
mysteries.  Thus  excellently  doth  the  Lord  dispense 
His  bounty,  and  show  to  man  His  tender  mercies.  So 
doth  He  quell  pride,  that  no  man  may  deem  that  he 
alone  is  great,  and,  for  that  greatness,  arrrogance  injure 
him.  The  Various  Fortunes  of  Men  may  be  looked 
upon  as  a  sort  of  companion-piece  to  it.  The  poem  is 
full  of  a  reverential  feeling  of  the  mystery  of  life,  and 
that  God  rules  all  the  infinite  circumstances  of  destiny, 
in  darkness  indeed  beyond  man's  exploring,  but  yet  in 
wondrousness,  mercy,  and  love.  A  review  of  the  evils 
and  woes  which  beset  mankind  in  nowise  shakes  the 
poet's  faith  in  the  control  of  an  all-wise  providence,  and 
thus  he  concludes  : — 

Even  thus  wondrously 
Has  the  great  God  of  all, 
Over  mid  earth, 
Crafts  of  mankind 
Moulded  and  made  ; 
And  to  each  one  on  earth 
Of  the  great  kin  of  man 
Dealt  His  decrees. 
Wherefore  let  each  one 
Yield  to  Him  thanks  for  all, 
Which  He  in  His  mercies 
To  man  hath  awarded.^ 

The  Wonders  of  Creation  is  yet  again  on  a  kindred 
topic.  It  is  a  pondering  over  '  the  web  of  mystery 
(rune),'  which  is  everywhere  spread  over  the  earth,  and 
shows  a  mind  keenly  alive  to  the  beauty  of  created 
things.  The  following  translations  into  modern  English 
will,  I  think,  be  found  very  close  to  the  original : — 

The  deeply-heeding  man,  whose  mind  is  set 
Strongly  to  live,  will  search  the  hoarded  craft 
Of  words  that  tell  of  wondrous,  hidden  things 
In  all  that  God  hath  shaped. 


Exeter  Book :   The  Various  Fortunes  of  Men,  332  :   '  Swa  hrcetlice.' 


1 6  Religious  Thought  in 

But  as  for  thee,  if  thou  wouldst  learn  such  lore, 
I5ehold,  I  ope  to  thee  the  power  of  God. 
And  if  thy  thought  can  reach  widely  and  far, 
Then,  grasp  its  teaching.     Yet  be  well  aware, 
It  is  not  in  the  bourne  and  bound  of  man 
Further  to  fathom  the  deep  things  of  God 
Than  the  Lord's  gift  enables.     Only  thank 
High  God,  the  Everlasting,  who  doth  give 
Fit  store  of  wit,  whereby  each  soul  of  man — 
If  it  but  strive  to  keep  the  King's  behest, 
And  faint  not  feebly  on  the  path  He  set — 
May  rise  with  ease  to  the  blest  realm  on  high. 

Lo,  each  morn, 
«  Comes  the  light  brightness  o'er  the  misty  hills, 

Wading  o'er  eastern  waves,  winsome  and  fair. 
Yea,  it  bears  light  to  every  kin  of  man. 
That  all  to  whom  our  King  l^ath  given  sight 
May  feel  its  cheer. 

Until  at  eventide 
O'er  depths  of  western  waters  forth  it  fares. 
Gloom  calleth  gloom,  and  soon  the  coming  night 
Holdeth  the  bidding  of  the  Holy  Lord.^ 

A  Father s  Instruct io7i  to  his  Son  is  a  didactic  poem 
stored  with  the  soundest  religious  morality.  It  is  re- 
presented as  the  teaching  of  '  a  man  skilled  in  mind,  old 
in  goodness,  wise-fast  in  words,  so  that  he  was  held  well 
worth,'  who  entreats  his  dear  son  to  '  let  his  mind  hold 
the  far-forth  writings  and  the  dooms  of  the  Lord.' 

The  Sea  Barer  is  a  song  of  travel  and  toil,  and  of 
the  wild  joy  of  waters.  Thence,  by  a  natural  transition, 
it  passes  on  to  muse  with  a  manly  pathos  on  the  pil- 
grim's journey  of  life,  its  deep  thoughts,  its  trials,  and 
aspirations.  It  is  a  fine  poem,  and  is  doubtless  by  the 
same  author  as  The  Wanderer.  I  may  refer  the  reader 
to  a  part  of  it  as  rendered  by  Professor  Morley  in  the 
second  volume  of  his  EnglisJi  Writers.  The  swooping 
flight  and  wild  cry  of  the  sea-bird  stirs  a  responsive 
chord  in  the  heart  of  the  sea-farer  : — 

'  Exeter  Book:   The  Wonders  of  Creation^  367  :   '  Deop  hydig  mon,' 


Old  English  Verse  17 

Loud  cries  the  lone  flier, 
And  stirs  the  mind's  longing 
To  travel  the  way  that  is  trackless, 
The  death-way  over  the  flood  ; 

and  he  muses  upon  the  life  and  death,  and,  most  of  all, 
the  memories  of  the  blest,  whose  true  deeds  are  cherished 
among  men  on  earth,  while  their  glory  grows  among  the 
angels  of  God  in  the  life  everlasting. 

The  Departed  SoiiVs  Address  to  the  Body  is  found 
both  in  the  Exeter  and  Vercelli  books,  and  is  in  two 
parts,  according  as  he  to  whom  the  Spirit  had  been 
given  had  lived  well  or  ill.  It  perhaps  dates  from  a 
time  not  very  much  prior  to  the  Conquest  The  follow- 
ing is  a  version  of  a  passage  in  the  first  of  the  two  : — 

God  sent  me  to  thee  by  His  angel. 

From  heaven,  a  living  soul  ; 
With  the  Holy  Blood  He  bought  thee. 

And  delivered  thee  from  dole. 
But  thou — thou  didst  bind  me  captive, 

Didst  hold  me  in  cruel  thrall  ; 
And  I  could  not  but  dwell  within  thee, 

Penned  in  by  the  fleshly  wall. 
Thou  didst  crush  me  with  lusts  and  sinning  ; 

And  it  seemed  to  thy  death-day 
Long  as  ten  thousand  winters 

That  I  tarried  still  thy  prey. 
Thou  didst  sit  midst  wine  and  feasting, 

And  never,  alack  !  didst  think 
How  I  craved  for  the  Lord's  own  body. 

How  I  longed  for  the  Spirit's  drink. ^ 

I  must  give  one  more  quotation  only  from  the  Exeter 
Codex,  from  the  first  part  of  the  Supplication  : — 

Help  me,  O  Holy  Lord, 
Shaper  of  earth  and  heaven, 
And  of  their  wonders  all. 
My  Glory- King  ! 
Eternal  Lord  ! 
Mighty  and  manifold  ! 
Hearken,  great  God  ; — 
Lo,  I  do  trust  to  Thee 

1  Exeter  Book :  A  Departed  SouVs  Address  to  the  Body^  368  :  '  And 
se  thurh  engel.' 

B 


1 8  Religious  Thought  in 

Body  and  soul, 

Words  and  works, 

And  all  my  divers  thoughts, 

0  wise  God. 
Giver  of  light  ! 

1  pray  Thee  betoken, 
Lord,  to  my  soul. 
How  I  may  heedfully 
Mark  Thy  great  will, 
Live  to  Thee  only, 
Soothfast  King  ! 
A.nd  in  my  heart 
Good  rede  up-raise. 
Weakly,  more  weakly 
Than  it  were  well, 

O  God,  my  I\Iaker, 

Have  I  hearkened  to  Thee  : 

Yet,  let  not  him,  the  Thief, 

Scathe  me  in  night. 

O  living  God, 

Do  Thou  forgive 

My  bitter,  baleful  deeds  ! 

Not  bootless  in  my  prayer. 

If  but  I  come  to  Thee. 

O,  give  me  time,  my  God, 

And  a  wise  heart  ; 

Give  me  a  will  to  bear, 

A  mind  to  heed. 

All  that,  O  faithful  Lord, 

Thou  dost  in  trial  send.^ 

Bede  {c.  673-735)  has  not  left  any  English  verse  ;  but 
his  Latin  poem  on  the  Domesday  was  early  trans- 
lated into  the  vernacular.  Some  authorities,  however, 
ascribe  the  Latin  original  to  Alcuin.  The  first  English 
manuscript  which  contains  it  is  of  the  tenth  century.  I 
give  a  rendering  of  a  short  extract  from  it : — 

I  rede  thee,  be  thou  quick  with  rueful  tears  ; 
Forestall  the  anger  of  the  eternal  Judge. 
Why  dost  thou  lie  in  dust,  burdened  with  shame, 
O  flesh  I  and  sins  ?     Ah,  why  not  cleanse  away. 
With  tears  poured  forth,  thy  load  of  troublous  sin  ? 
Why  ask  not  for  thyself  bathings  and  salves, — 

^  A  Supplication^  1-32,  in  id.  452  :   '  Ahelpo  min,  se  halga  dryhten." 


Old  English  Verse  1 9 

Leechdoms  of  life — from  Him  the  Lord  of  life  ? 

Glad  is  the  Son  of  God  in  throes  of  grief, 

And  when  thou  judg'st  thyself  for  sins  on  earth. 

Never  will  heaven's  God  for  guilt  and  wrong 

Wreak  wrath  twice  over  upon  any  man. 

Slight  not  the  heaving  groan,  the  sorrowing  cry, 

And  of  forgiveness  this  the  ready  time.-^ 

The  same  manuscript  contains  poetical  paragraphs 
of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  of  the  Doxology.  I  append 
a  version  of  the  Hnes  on  the  '  Et  nunc  et  semper '  of  the 
latter  :— 

And  now  for  evermore  Thy  faithful  works, 

And  Thy  great  might  abideth,  clear  to  all. 

They  tell  of  Thine  high  wisdom  far  and  wide, 

And  throughout  all  the  world  they  stand  for  aye. 

Thy  handiwork,  O  God,  hearkens  Thy  word, 

And  groweth  ever  ;  all  things  praise  the  Lord, 

The  songs  of  saints,  clean  tongues,  and  Christian  books. 

All  this  mid  earth,  and  we  men  call  aloud 

Here  on  its  ground — '  To  Thee  be  thanks  and  praise, 

Thy  will  unchanging.  Thine  own  steadfast  law.'- 

Salomon  and  Saturn  is  the  English  form  of  a  story 
in  dialogue,  which  was  for  many  centuries  exceedingly 
popular  in  almost  every  country  of  Europe.  It  contains 
both  Northern  and  Oriental  elements,  and  varies  in  the 
most  singular  ways  ;  '  at  one  time  a  solemn  and  serious 
piece  of  mystical  theosophy  ;  at  another,  a  coarse  but 
humorous  parody  ;  at  another  (in  the  French),  still 
further  degraded.'  The  First-English  or  Anglo-Saxon 
is  the  earliest  extant  version  of  it,  and  '  is  the  only  one 
in  which  it  is  solemnly  and  seriously  treated.'  ^  There 
is  much  that  is  figurative  in  it,  much  that  is  fantastic 
and  exaggerated,  much  that  sounds  like  mere  rhapsody. 
In  the  first  part  the  Paternoster  is  personified,  with 
much  embellishment  of  Eastern  hyperbole,  and  in  the 

^  Bede's  De  Domes  Dcege,  75-91  ;  Early  English  Text  Soc.  1876  :  '  Ic 
l;ere  the  thu  beo  hrsedra  mid  hreowlicum  tearum.' 

-  Paraphrase  on  the  Doxology^  11.  30-40,  in  id.  :  *  And  nu  symle  thine 
sodhan  weore.' 

^  Kemble's  Introduction,  p.  2. 


20  Religious  Thought  in 

dialogue  Salomon,  in  answer  to  Saturn,  descants  upon 
its  virtues.  But  the  grave  and  strong  religious  feeling 
of  our  early  forefathers  in  England  has  preserved  it  in  a 
very  remarkable  manner  from  the  course  and  flippant 
humour  which  often  marked  it  on  the  Continent.  The 
second  part  of  the  poem  (our  copy  of  which  dates  from 
the  eleventh  century)  is  a  sort  of  general  colloquy,  in  a 
series  of  riddling  questions  and  answers,  on  theological 
and  moral  subjects.  Scripture  being  greatly  mixed  up 
with  allegory  and  legend.  The  following  are  a  few  lines 
picked  from  Salomon's  encomium  on  the  excellencies  of 
the  sacred  Word  : — 

Golden  the  Word  of  God,  and  to  man's  soul 

Sweeter  than  milk  and  honey  !  It  can  bring 
Him  who  hath  strayed  in  shades  of  endless  night 
Back  by  its  blessed  power  into  Christ's  fold. 

It  heals  the  lame,  and  to  the  blind  gives  sight, 
And  to  the  deaf  his  hearing  ;  and  the  dumb 
Can  praise  the  Lord  again  with  unloosed  tongue. 
The  sinner  finds  a  shelter  ;  and  great  God 
Himself  makes  dwelling  in  the  Holy  Word.^ 

In  speaking  of  The  Legend  of  St.  GutJilac^  reference 
was  made  to  the  idea  of  a  man  being  encompassed  in 
the  time  of  temptation  by  unseen  powers  alike  of  good 
and  evil.  The  thought  seems  to  have  deeply  impressed 
itself  upon  the  religion  of  the  early  English,  for  we  find 
it  again  in  this  dialogue.  The  translation  given  is  very 
literal  : — 

Quoth  Salomon,  .... 

'  About  him  go 
Twain  spirits  :  gladder  one  than  brightest  gold  ; 
The  other  swarthier  than  the  depths  beneath. 
One  Cometh  from  the  pains  of  steely  hell  ; 
The  other  teacheth  him,  that  he  hold  love, 
His  Maker's  mercy,  and  his  kinsmen's  rede. 
Woe  that  the  one  should  lead  the  man  astra)-, 


'  The  Dialogue  of  Salotnon  and  Saturn,   173;  ed.  by  J.  M.  Kemble 
for  the  ^Ufric  Society,  p.  138. 


Old  English  Verse  2 1 

And  draw  him  sinful  to  the  worser  side, 
To  do  the  devil's  will  the  whole  day  long  ! 

Then  going  forth  with  tears,  fares  on  his  way 
The  angel  to  his  home,  and  sadly  cries  : 
"  I  could  not  from  his  heart  drive  out  the  stone, 
Which  in  its  flinty  weight  cleaves  to  his  soul  !" '  ^ 

The  following  is  a  short  quotation  from  the  second 
part: — 

Quoth  Salomon,  .... 

'  A  Httle  while 
The  leaf  is  green,  then  falloweth  again, 
Falleth  to  earth,  and  tumeth  to  its  dust. 
E'en  so  shall  fall  they  who  work  sin  on  earth. 
Who  live  in  guilt,  who  hide  their  costly  hoards, 
And  guard  them  strongly  in  their  fastnesses, 
Thereby  to  gladden  fiends.     Foolish,  they  ween 
That  He  the  King  of  Heaven,  Almighty  God, 
Will  hear  them  in  their  trouble,  when  they  cry.'  ^ 

^  The  Dialogue  of  Salomon  and  Saturn,  974-1007,  p.  175  : 

Donne  hine  ymbegangath 

Castas  twegen  ;  other  bith  golde  glsedra. 

-  Id.  625,  p.  163. 


CHAPTER    TI 

THE  TWELFTH  AND   THIRTEENTH   CENTURIES 

In  all  its  most  essential  features  the  English  language 
remained  for  a  long  period  almost  unaffected  by  the 
changes  which  followed  at  the  Conquest.  The  vast 
mass  of  the  people  spoke  under  the  Plantagenets  the 
same  tongue  which  their  fathers  had  spoken  under 
Edward  the  Confessor,  and  intermarriage  between  the 
two  races  who  now  lived  side  by  side  on  English  soil 
was  so  general,  that  English  was  doubtless  the  true 
mother-tongue  of  many  a  young  heir  to  Norman  baronies. 
But  still,  some  few  generations  had  to  pass  before  either 
the  English  language  or  the  English  people  emerged 
from  the  yoke  under  which  each  alike  had  fallen.  The 
English  Chronicle,  not  without  many  a  wail  of  sorrow 
for  the  troubles  which  had  fallen  upon  the  land,  con- 
tinued its  old  record.  A  few  English  homilies  survive 
from  the  century  that  followed  upon  the  Conquest. 
But  otherwise  the  language  of  Egbert  and  of  Alfred  the 
Great,  of  Ca^dmon  and  of  Cynewulf,  was  for  the  most 
part  the  spoken,  but  no  longer  the  written  language  of 
the  country.  Clerks  and  learned  men  wrote  in  Latin. 
French  was  the  tongue  of  the  court  and  of  law.  Mean- 
while English  was  undergoing  more  rapidly  than  before 
the  change  which  quickly  affects  any  vernacular  which 
is  not  guarded  by  literary  men  and  grammarians.  It 
was  losing  its  inflexions,  and  being  chipped  and  short- 
ened as  it  passed  only  from  mouth  to  mouth.  The 
great  change  by  which  the  purity  of  the  language  was 
corrupted,  and  its  powers  enlarged  was  through  a  great 
influx  of  Norman.     But  French  words  were  scarcely  in 


Religious  Thought  in  Old  English  Verse    2 


o 


general  operation  until  the  latter  part  of  the  thirteenth 
century.  Layamon's  long  poem  of  56,000  lines,  written 
in  King  John's  reign,  contained  barely  ninety  words 
which  were  not  of  genuine  English  birth. 

The  '  Proverbs  of  Alfred/  in  the  exact  form  in  which 
they  now  survive  to  us,  date  from  the  time  of  Henry 
the  Third.  But  the  poem  most  likely  belongs  to  the 
twelfth  century,  and  may  embody  sayings  which  for 
some  long  time  previous  to  that  had  been  recited  or 
sung  by  minstrels  in  many  an  English  home.  It  is  not 
supposed  that  the  Witanagemote  at  Seaford  is  reall}- 
historical,  or  that  the  sayings  ascribed  to  King  Alfred 
were  all  of  them  his.  The  English  clung  with  tenacity' 
to  the  memory  of  their  noble-hearted  ruler,  and  not 
only  kept  up  a  traditional  memory  of  his  teaching,  but 
fathered  upon  him  many  wise  sayings  which,  in  the 
very  same  form,  had  long  been  a  sort  of  common  pro- 
perty of  the  Teutonic  family,  ascribed  to  Hendring  or 
to  any  other  venerated  name.  But  whether  the  sub- 
joined words  record  a  genuine  tradition  of  Alfred  or 
not,  they  are,  at  all  events,  worthy  of  him,  and  are 
inspirited  by  a  very  pure  and  high  Christian  sentiment. 
If  they  were  composed  in  the  reign  of  Stephen,  or  in 
that  of  the  first  or  second  William,  we  can  imagine  with 
what  pathetic  yearning  the  English  would  turn  from 
the  miseries  of  their  own  time  to  the  memory  of  days 
when  they  were  free  under  their  own  heroic  king : — 

Alfred  sate 
At  Seaford,  'mongst  his  bishops,  and  his  thanes. 
Proud  earls,  and  knights,  and  his  book-learned  men, 

He,  England's  darling,  comforter,  and  lord. 

Full  strong  was  he,  and  lovesome.     He  was  King 

And  he  was  Clerk,  and  well  he  loved  the  word 

Of  God.     Ay,  he  was  wise  in  all  his  words 

Wary  in  work  :  he  was  the  wisest  man 

On  English  ground.     And  thus  he  'gan  to  teach 

How  we  might  in  the  world  worship  attain. 
And  bring  our  souls  in  one  with  Christ  our  King. 


24  Religious  Thought  in 

He  spake,  and  bade  us  all  dread  Christ  our  Lord, 
Love  Him,  and  please  Him.     He  alone  is  good 
Above  all  goodness.     He  is  wise,  and  He, 
Above  all  things  of  gladness,  the  one  Bliss, 
The  mildest  Master,  Father,  Comforter 
Of  all  who  love  the  one  true  Righteousness  ; — 
A  King  so  rich  in  boon  that  none  should  lack 
Ought  of  His  will,  who  in  the  world  shall  live 
Heedful  of  His  high  honour.^ 

Thus  Alfred  quoth  :  '  O  son  of  mine,  so  dear. 
Sit  thou  beside  me  ;  I  will  tell  to  thee 
True  ways  of  life.     O  son  of  mine,  I  feel 
That  my  hue  falloweth,  my  comeliness 
Grows  wan,  my  strength  is  weak,  my  days  on  earth 
Are  wellnigh  o'er  ;  and  soon  we  two  must  part. 
I  must  go  hence  ;  but  thou  shalt  tarry  here 
In  all  my  wealth.     Hearken  to  what  I  say. 
Dear  son,  I  charge  thee.     Be  to  all  thy  folk 
Father  and  fore-lord,  father  to  the  child. 
The  widow's  friend,  the  poor  man's  comforter. 
Shield  of  the  weak.     The  wrong  man  bring  to  right 
With  all  thy  strength,  and  guide  thee,  son,  by  law. 
So  shall  the  Lord  be  with  thee  ;  and,  above  all, 
First  of  all  other  thoughts,  remember  well 
Thy  God,  and  pray  that  He  may  counsel  thee 
In  all  thy  deeds.     So  shall  He  be  with  thee, 
And  help  thee  to  do  strongly  all  thy  deeds.'  ^ 

It  would  have  been  interesting  to  have  had  some 
reminiscences  in  old  English  verse  of  the  fervid  emotions 
excited  by  the  early  Crusades,  and  also  of  that  earnest 
revival  of  religion  which  stirred  the  hearts  of  the  people 
in  the  days  of  Henry  the  First.  A  solemn  and  medi- 
tative strain  of  sacred  poetry,  as  a  mode  of  expressing 
deep  religious  feeling,  had  been  quite  in  accord  with 
the  temperament  of  the  English  before  the  Conquest. 

^    The  Proverbs  of  Alfred ^  1-60  : 

Al  Sevorde  sete  theynes  monye,  fele  biscopes 

And  feole  bok-ilered,  eorles  prute,  knyghtes  egleche. 

-  Jd.  XXX.  573-604 : 

Thus  (luad  Alured  :  Sonc  min,  swo  leue, 
.Site  me  nu  Ijisides,  and  hich  the  wile  sagen 
Sothc  thewes.     Sonc  min,  ich  fele, 
Thad  min  hew  falcwidth,  and  min  wlite  is  wan. 


Old  English  Verse  2  5 

Doubtless,  the  same  spirit  remained.  We  can  well 
believe  that  in  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century 
the  religious  movements  of  the  day  found  expression 
in  many  a  hymn  sung  in  native  English.  But  I  am  not 
aware  that  there  are  any  English  hymns  now  extant 
of  the  twelfth  century,  except  a  few  verses  written  by 
St.  Godric,  a  hermit  of  Finchall,  near  Durham,  who 
died  there  in  1170.  The  good  man  himself  thought 
highly  of  them,  supposed  that  they  had  been  put  into 
his  heart  by  special  inspiration,  and  recommended 
them  as  a  solace  in  pain,  and  strength  in  time  of 
temptation.  There  is,  however,  nothing  in  the  least 
degree  worth  quoting  in  the  fragments  of  these  hymns, 
collected  by  Ritson,  in  his  Bibliographia  Poetica} 

The  Onnulurn,  as  the  author  of  it  has  called  it  from 
his  own  name,  was  written  in  unrhymed  verse  scarcely 
recognisable  as  verse,  about  the  beginning  of  Henry 
the  Second's  reign,  by  Orm  or  Ormin,  a  canon-regular 
of  St.  Augustine.  His  aim  was  to  put  into  simple 
English,  adapted  to  recitation,  the  Gospel  as  read  in 
the  order  of  the  Church,  and  to  give  a  series  of  metrical 
homilies  on  their  teaching.  It  had  been  the  sugges- 
tion of  his  dear  brother,  Walter,  who  was  one  with 
him,  he  says,  in  brotherly  love,  one  in  baptism  and 
faith,  and  one  also  in  the  canonical  rule  of  life  which 
both  one  and  the  other  had  adopted.  To  him  he  dedi- 
cated his  completed  work.  Then,  after  some  opening 
words : — 

And  for  thee  I  have  done  it  now. 

But  all  through  Christ'es  help. 
And  now  'tis  meet  we  both  thank  Christ 

That  it  is  brought  to  end. 
I  "ve  gathered  into  this  my  book 

The  gospels  wellnigh  all, 
Such  as  within  the  mass  book  are 

Through  all  the  year  at  mass. 


^  One  line  from  a  petition  to  Saint  Nicolas  may  be  instanced  as  a  pass- 
ing illustration  of  the  northern  English  of  that  time  :  '  Tymbre  us  faire 
scone  bus,'  i.e.  '  Build  us  a  fair  beautiful  house.' 


26  Religious  Thought  in 

I  have  after  the  Gospel  stood, 

That  which  the  Gospel  meaneth, 
That  one  should  tell  unto  the  folk 

Concerning  their  souls'  need.^ 

And  so  he  continues  in  the  very  simplest  and  homeliest 
strain,  and  with  many  repetitions,  addressing  himself 
in  the  most  earnest  sincerity  of  purpose  to  his  untaught 
hearers : — 

For  all  that  e'er  on  earth  is  need 

For  Christian  folk  to  follow — 
In  faith,  in  deed — they  shall  learn  all 

In  Gospel's  holy  lore. 
And,  therefore,  whoso  learneth  it, 

And  doeth  it  indeed. 
He  shall  straightway  be  worthy  held 

Saved  through  God  to  be. 
And,  therefore,  have  I  turned  it 

Into  the  English  speech  ; 
For  that  I  fain  would  have  it  so. 

That  all  our  English  folk 
With  ear  should  listen  unto  it, 

With  heart  should  it  believe, 
With  tongue  should  make  its  tidings  known, 

With  doing  should  fulfil  it. 
And  so  should  win  'neath  Christendom, 

Through  God,  true  soul-salvation  ; 
And  if  that  they  will  hearken  it 

And  follow  it  with  deed, 
Then  with  Christ's  aid  I  've  holpen  them 

Shelter  of  Him  to  win. 
And  I  shall  have,  for  this  my  toil, 

Good  boon  from  God  at  last. 
If  that  I,  for  the  love  of  God, 

And  for  the  meed  of  heaven. 
Have  turned  it  into  English  speech 

For  their  souls'  weal  and  need.^ 

The  following,  on  Luke  vii.,  is  a  portion  of  his  Gospel 

narrative  : — 

Augustus  hight  in  olden  time 
A  Roman  Kaiser-king, 

1  The  Ormulum,  ed.  R.  M.  White  ;  Dedic.  25-36  : 
Ice  itt  hafe  forthedd  te, 

Ace  all  thurrh  Cristess  hellpe. 
-  Id.  130,  etc.  :  '  Forr  al  thatt  a^fre  own  erthe  iss  ned.' 


Old  English  Verse  27 

And  he  had  waxed  Kaiser-king- 

Of  all  man  kin  on  earth  ; 
And  he  'gan  thinking  of  himself 

And  of  his  mickle  wealth, 
And  he  began  to  think  him  thus 

— So  as  the  Gospel  sayeth — 
How  that  in  sooth  he  well  would  know 

How  much  of  fee  would  come 
If  throughout  all  his  kingdom,  each 

A  penny  to  him  gave.^ 

To  shepherds  there,  where  they  that  night 

Were  watching  by  their  folds. 
That  angel  came,  and  stood  them  by 

With  heaven's  light  and  gleam. 
And  forthwith  as  they  looked  on  him. 

They  were  full  sore  afraid  ; 
And  God's  bright  angel  then  began 

To  comfort  and  to  cheer. 
And  spoke  them  thus  on  God's  behalf, 

With  speech  both  sweet  and  mild  : 
'  Now  be  you  not  afeard  of  me 

But  be  ye  very  blithe. 
For  I  am  sent  from  the  high  heaven 

To  let  ye  ken  God's  will,— 
To  tell  you,  and  all  folk  that  be, 

Now  Cometh  mickle  bliss. 
To  you  is  born  this  very  day, 

For  healing  of  your  sins, 
A  childling  that  is  Jesus  Christ, — 

In  full  sooth  know  it  ye  ; — 
And  here  hard  by  that  child  is  born, 

E'en  in  King  David's  town, 
The  town  that  highteth  Bethlehem, 

Here  on  this  Jewish  ground. 
And  further,  I  will  show  to  you 

A  thing  for  a  true  token  : 
For  soothly  ye  shall  find  the  child 

In  winding  clouts  y-wounden. 
And  He  is  in  an  ox-crib  laid. 

And  there  'tis  ye  may  find  him.' 
And  soon  anon  as  this  was  said 

By  angel  sent  from  God, 
A  mickle  crowd  of  angel  throng 

Was  come  forth  out  of  heaven. 


The  OnnuhcfH,  3270-80 : 

An  Romanisshe  Kaserrking 
Wass  Augustuss  gehatenn. 


28  ReligiotLS  Thought  in 

And  all  that  shepherd  folk  them  saw 

And  heard  what  they  did  sing. 
They  all  did  sing  to  God  one  song, 

In  worship  and  in  praise. 
And  thus  together  did  they  sing — 

'Tis  as  the  Gospel  sayeth — 
'To  God  up  in  the  Heaven's  span 

Be  worship  praise  and  meed, 
And  upon  earth  greeting  and  love. 

Through  God's  mild  heartedness, 
To  each  man  that  shall  have  in  him 

Good  heart  and  aye  good  will.' 

I  will  give  one  more  quotation  from  a  more  homiletic 
part  of  the  discourse  :  — 

Now  mightest  thou  say  here  to  me 

This  word,  if  so  befall  : 
'To  love  both  God  and  also  man 

Why  should  it  me  beseem  ? 
It  is  enough  that  I  love  God, 

Whereby  I  may  be  saved.' — 
Of  this  will  I  now  show  to  thee 

That  which  I  understand 
After  such  little  wit  whate'er 

My  Lord  hath  lent  to  me. 
If  that  thou  mightest  love  thy  God, 

So  as  beliketh  Him, 
Without  that  love  of  every  man, 

Then  mightest  thou  be  saved 
Without  that  love  of  every  man. 

Loving  the  Lord  alone. 
But  thou  must  this  full  truly  know  : 

It  is  not  God's  good  will 
That  either  thou  canst  love  Him  much. 

Or  gladly  yield  Him  thrall. 
If  that  thou  lovest  not  all  men 

Like  as  thou  lov'st  thyself ; 
And  Christ  thou  dost  not  wholly  lo\c 

In  all  his  twofold  kind, 
If  that  thou  hast  not  love  for  men 

Who  share  in  Christ'cs  kind  ; 
For  Christ  is  (jod,  and  Christ  is  man, 

Both  in  His  twofold  kin. 


The  Onnuhif?i,  3337-84 : 

Till  hirdess  tha?r  thccr  thegg  thatl  nihht 
Biwokcn  thcggre  faldess. 


Old  English  Verse  29 

And  if  thou  lovest  right  thy  Lord, 

To  men  thou  needs  must  show  it. 
Meet  'tis  that  thou  for  love  of  God, 

Shouldst  well  love,  mend,  and  help  them.^ 

Nicholas  de  Guildford's  Owl  and  Nightingale  was 
written  in  Henry  the  Second's  time.  I  quote  from  it  a 
passage  in  which  the  nightingale  is  represented  as  de- 
scanting on  sacred  song  in  earth  and  heaven  : — 

'  Owl,  thou  askest  me,'  she  said, 

'  Can  I  do  any  other  deed 

Than  sing  throughout  the  summer's  tide 

And  scatter  mirth  both  far  and  wide  ? 

Why  askest  thou  of  crafts  of  mine  ? 

Better  my  one  than  all  of  thine. 

Better  from  me  one  single  lay 

Than  all  that  ever  thou  canst  say. 

And  I  would  tell  thee  why  it  is  : 

Know  then,  that  man  was  born  for  this 

For  blessedness  of  heaven  above. 

Where  there  is  song,  and  joy,  and  love. 

And  thither  presseth  every  man 

Who  anything  of  goodness  can. 

So  there  is  song  in  holy  kirk, 

And  clerks  begin  their  tuneful  work. 

That  men  may  think  who  hear  the  song, 

Whither  they  wend,  and  where  belong. 

And  holy  mirth  may  not  forget. 

But  think  thereof  and  reck  of  it. 

And,  listening  to  the  Churche's  Steven,  [voice] 

May  deem  how  glad  the  bliss  of  heaven. 

And  clerks  they  rise  at  mid  of  night 

And  sing  of  yonder  heaven's  light  ; 

And  through  the  land  the  priests  do  sing. 

When  that  the  light  of  day  doth  spring. 

And  I  help  them  all  that  I  may, 

And  sing  with  them  both  night  and  day  ; 

And  they  through  me  be  all  the  gladder, 

And  to  their  song  be  all  the  radder  (more  willing) 

I  warn  all  men  unto  their  good, 

That  they  be  blithe  in  heart  and  mood. 


The  Ormiihwi^  5150-80: 

Nu  miht  tu  seygenn  her  to  me 
Thiss  word,  giff  thalt  te  thinnkethth. 


30  Religious  ThoiigJit  in 

And  bid  them  seek  the  land  on  high 
Where  song  and  joy  shall  be  for  aye.'^ 

In  John's  reign,  when  Normandy  was  for  the  time 
lost  to  the  Norman  kings,  and  England  was  thrown 
back  entirely  upon  herself,  the  English  tongue,  which 
for  some  time  past  had  been  gradually  recovering  its 
place  as  the  language  of  the  whole  people,  began  more 
generally  to  assert  itself  again  in  literature.  Then 
Layamon,  priest  of  Ernley  (Arley),  on  the  banks  of  the 
Severn,  wrote  his  chronicle  in  verse,  in  the  last  year  or 
two  of  the  twelfth  century,  or  in  the  opening  of  the 
thirteenth.  After  much  search  and  many  travels,  he 
got  together  the  authorities  for  his  projected  work — 
Bede  in  English,  Albinus  and  Austin  in  Latin,  and 
Wace's  translation  from  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth  in 
Norman-French,  this  latter  being  the  one  to  which  he 
was  mainly  indebted.  With  his  three  manuscripts 
before  him,  Layamon  set  to  work.  To  use  his  own 
words : — 

Then  Layamon  before  him  laid  these  books, 

And  turned  their  leaves,  and  lovingly  beheld  them. 

(May  the  good  Lord  be  gracious  to  his  soul  I) 

Then  in  his  fingers  took  he  up  the  quill. 

And  so  he  wrote  on  book-skin,  and  true  words 

He  set  together,  gathering  into  one. 

Three  books.     And  now  thus  prayeth  Layamon  : 

Each  truly-hearted  man  who  reads  this  book, 

And  learns  these  lines,  let  him,  for  love  of  God, 

For  his  dear  father's  soul  utter  a  prayer, 

And  for  his  mother's  soul  who  brought  him  forth 

To  be  a  man  ;  and  likewise  let  him  pray 

For  his  own  soul,  that  all  may  well  befall  him.-'     Amen. 

^  N.  de  Guildford's  Owl  and  Nightingale,  ed.  Stratmann,  iS68,  707- 

Ule,  thu  axestme,  heo  seide, 
Ciif  ich  con  eai  other  dede, 
Bute  soingen  in  sume  tide, 
And  l^ringe  blisse  feor  and  wide. 
-  Layamon 's  Brut,  ox   Chronicle  of  Britain  ;  cd.   Sir  F.    Madden;  3 
vols.  1847  : 

Layamon  leide  theos  hoc, 

And  tha  leaf  wende, 

llcom  leofliche  bi-heold. — '.  45,  vol.  i.  3. 


Old  English  Verse  3 1 

In  the  course  of  his  story,^  Layamon  never  goes  out 
of  his  way  to  moralise  or  make  reflections,  but  when  his 
subject  naturally  introduces  anything  directly  connected 
with  the  history  of  religion  in  England,  he  describes  it 
with  evident  zest  and  sympathy.  The  reader  may  be 
glad  to  have  one  or  two  nearly  literal  extracts.  The 
first  is  where  Arthur  is  told  of  the  death  of  King 
Uther,  and  of  his  own  succession  to  the  British  throne. 
The  deputies  found  him  in  Brittany : — 

Then  said  they,  '  Hail,  O  Arthur,  noblest  knight  ! 

When  Uther  must  depart,  he  greeted  thee. 

And  bade  thee,  that  in  Britain  rightful  laws 

Thou  hold,  and  help  thy  folk,  and  guard  the  realm. 

As  good  king  should,  and  rid  thee  of  thy  foe, 

And  drive  him  from  the  land.     Likewise  he  prayed 

To  the  mild  Son  of  God  that  thou  do  well. 

And  hold  thy  land  of  God.     So  Uther  died — 

Uther  Pendragon — and  thou  art  his  son 

Arthur,  and  eke  Aurelian  is  dead. 

Who  was  his  brother.'     Thus  they  'gan  to  tell  : 

But  Arthur  sat  full  still,  and  for  one  while 

Was  faint,  and  wan  of  hue,  and  then  anon 

Was  red,  as  moved  in  heart ;  then  his  full  soul 

Outbroke,  and  what  he  spake  was  good. 

Thus  spake  he  then — Arthur,  the  noblest  knight : — 

'  Lord  Christ,  Thou  Son  of  God,  O  help  us  now, 

That  I  through  life  may  hold  God's  holy  laws  V^ 

The  other  passage  I  quote  is  the  very  familiar  but 
ever  interesting  story  of  Gregory  and  the  Angles  : — 

There  was  in  Rome,  by  doom  of  God,  a  pope 
Hight  Gregory,  a  man  well  loved  of  God. 
It  happed  upon  a  time  this  pope  would  go 
Into  a  street,  and,  as  he  went,  he  saw 
Three  very  comely  men  of  English  birth. 
Fast  bound,  who  should  be  sold,  and  even  now 
The  pence  were  told.     Then  asked  the  pope  anon 
Who  these  fair  men  might  be,  and  how  they  came, 

^  Layamon's  long  work  is  barely  entitled  to  the  name  of  a  'chronicle.' 
At  the  end  of  32,241  lines  he  has  not  advanced  beyond  the  old  days  of 
Athelstan. 

-  Bnit^  19,866,  vol.  ii.  412  : 

'  Hail  seo  thu,  Arthur, 
Athelest  cnighten. ' 


32  Religious  Thought  in 

And  whence  they  were,  and  in  what  land  were  born. 

Then  answered  one  who  was  exceeding  fair; 

'  Yea,  we  be  heathen  men,  and  hither  led. 

Forth  sold  from  land  of  Angles.     Do  thou  free  us, 

And  we  would  ask  for  baptism.'     Thus  they  spoke. 

These  English,  nobly  born  ;  and  Gregory, 

Beloved  of  God,  felt  pity,  and  he  said, 

(For  he  was  good  of  heart)  '  I  wis  ye  Idc 

Angles,  to  angels  likest,  for  of  all 

Upon  this  earth  no  kin  is  fair  as  ye  ! ' 

Then  the  pope  questioned  them  of  many  things. 

Their  laws,  their  lands,  and  of  their  people's  king  ; 

And  all  they  wist  they  told  him.     So  when  he 

Had  given  them  baptism,  and  made  them  free. 

He  turned  to  Rome,  and  beck'd  a  cardinal, 

A  chosen  clerk,  and  holy,  called  Austin. 

Then  said  the  pope  unto  him,  counselling : 

'  Austin,  thou  needs  must  wend,  with  soothful  thought, 

To  England,  to  King  Ethelbert,  and  preach 

God's  gospel  there,  and  thou  shall  speed  thee  well. 

I  give  thee  forty  right  good  clerks  :  but  thou, 

See  that  to-morrow  finds  thee  on  thy  way.'  ^ 

One  of  the  early  Scripture  paraphrases  is  The  Story 
of  Genesis  and  Exodus,  dating,  in  Mr.  Morris's  opinion, 
not  later  than  1250.  The  writer  takes  various  salient 
incidents  in  the  biblical  accounts,  and,  like  his  fellow- 
writers  of  that  period,  does  not  scruple  to  mix  them 
with  fiction  and  legend.  But  there  is  interest  in  all 
these  efforts  made,  a  century  or  more  before  Wicklifife, 
to  meet,  in  a  popular  form,  the  desire  for  some  further 
knowledge  of  Scripture  in  a  tongue  which  the  people 
could  understand.  The  following  is  the  beginning  of 
the  prologue : — 

Give  love  to  him  who  rhymes  a  song. 
To  teach  with  wit  the  unlearned  throng, 
How  they  may  heed  with  mindful  look. 
Though  they  be  learned  in  no  book. 
To  love  their  God  and  ser\e  Him  aye  : 
He  will  requite  them  faithfully. 
Yea,  all  good  and  Christian  men, 

1  Brut^  299,447»  vol.  iii.  180: 

Tha  wcs  inne  Rome  a  pape  of  Godes  dome. 


Old  English  Verse  2)2> 

Bearing  peace  and  love  between, 

Them  Almighty  God  shall  love 

Here  below  and  there  above  ; 

Give  them  bliss  and  soul'es  rest 

Which  for  evermore  shall  last. 

From  Latin  speech  I  draw  my  lay 

Into  English,  sooth  to  say. 

Christian  folk  who  hear  it  may 

Be  glad,  as  birds,  to  see  the  day, 

When  to  them  the  tale  is  sung. 

In  easy  words  and  mother  tongue, 

Of  bliss'es  hill  and  sorrow's  dale  ; 

How  Lucifer,  that  devil-dwale,  [deceiver] 

Brought  mankind  to  sin  and  bale, 

Held  them  shut  in  hellish  mail. 

Till  God,  clad  in  our  weed, 

To  man  forgiveness  brought  and  rede, 

Undid  whate'er  the  fiend  would  speed. 

And  holp,  when  He  saw  mickle  need. — 

Father  God  of  everything. 

Thou  Lord  Almighty,  highest  King, 

Whether  that  I  read  or  sing. 

Give,  I  pray  Thee,  happy  timing. 

Thee  to  praise  in  this  my  rhyming. 

Telling  of  the  world's  beginning.^ 

And  so  he  begins  the  history  of  Creation,  and  how- 
Satan,  through  pride  and  rebellion, 

Dragon  became,  who  erst  was  knight, 
Darkness  became,  who  erst  was  light ; 
And  everything  that  held  with  him 
Murky  became,  and  swart,  and  dim.^ 

Thus  he  tells  of  Jacob's  dream — 

At  Luz  he  tarried  out  all  night, 
A  stone  under  his  head  set  right. 
And  slept,  and  saw  in  soothful  dream 
From  earth  up  unto  heaven's  beam 
A  ladder  stand,  and  thereupon 

^  The   Storv  of  Genesis    and   Exodus^    i-34>    edited    by    R.    Morris, 
E.E.T.S.  No.  7: 

Man  og  to  luven  that  rimes  ren, 
The  wisseth  wel  the  logede  men, 
Hu  man  may  him  wel  loken, 
Thog  he  ne  be  lered  on  no  boken. 

"  Id.  284  :   '  Tho  wurth  he  drake,  that  ear  was  knigt.' 

C 


34  Religious  Thought  in 

Angels  down-coming  and  up-gone 
And  the  great  God  above  on  high 
Then  Jacob  roused,  and  speedily 
He  heard  Him  speaking,  *  God  I  am 
Of  Isaac  and  of  Abraham. 
This  land  I  give  unto  thy  seed, 
And  in  this  wise  I  bid  thee  rede, 
That  I  will  bring  them  here  again 
Among  all  peoples  blest  amain.' 
Jacob  awoke,  and  said  in  fear — 
'  God  in  this  stead  [place]  is  surely  here, 
A  place  of  dread  is  this,  God's  house, 
Here  is  the  gate  of  heaven  'mongst  us.'^ 

His  story  ends  with  some  events  recorded  in  the  Book 
of  Numbers,  and  so  to  the  death  of  Moses.  The  con- 
cluding lines  are : — 

Beseech  we  now  great  God'es  might. 
That  He  will  make  our  soul^s  bright. 
And  shield  us  all  from  Hell'es  night, 
And  lead  us  into  gladsome  light, 
Guide  us  to  ways  aloof  from  sin, 
At  heaven's  gate  to  enter  in, 
And  live  in  bliss  with  blessed  men. 
With  mouth  and  heart  we  say.  Amen.- 

Another  favourite  way  of  imparting  religious  instruction, 
in  a  form  attractive  to  the  common  people,  was  to  tell 
of  the  habits  and  properties,  real  or  supposed,  of  certain 
animals,  and  then  to  allegorise  them  in  a  Christian  sense. 
One  of  these  so-called  '  Bestiaries  '  is  supposed  by  Mr. 
Morris  to  be  by  the  same  author  as  the  Genesis  and 
Exodus  just  spoken  of  It  was  written  about  the  same 
date,  1250,  and,  like  it,  in  the  East  Midland  form  of  the 
language.  Scraps  from  these  curious  compositions  are 
often  found  in  later  writers.  The  natural  history  re- 
corded of  the  animals  selected  is  of  an  astonishing  kind, 
and  the  spiritual  and  moral  applications  often  quaint 
and  ingenious.     Of  the  lion  the  characteristics  specially 

'    The  Story  of  Genesis  and  Exoifus,  1603-20  : 
He  lay  bi  Luzan  ut  on  nigt. 
A  ston  under  hise  heued  rigt. 

-  /f.  4155  :  *  Biseke  we  nu  godes  niigt.' 


Old  English  Verse  35 

dwelt  upon  are  that  he  is  accustomed  to  watch  on 
a  hill  ;  that  when  the  hunter  approaches  he  carefully 
erases  his  track  by  means  of  his  tail ;  that  when  the 
whelp  is  born  it  does  not  stir  until  the  third  day,  when 
its  sire  calls  aloud  and  wakes  it ;  and  lastly,  that  the 
lion  always  sleeps  with  its  eyes  open.  When  these 
facts  have  all  been  turned  into  religious  allegory,  the 
parable  passes  on  to  the  eagle,  the  serpent,  and  the  ant. 
Of  the  latter  it  is  said  that 

As  the  ant  shunneth  barley,  when  she  can  store  up  wheat, 

So  when  we  have  the  Gospel  law,  to  shun  the  old  law  is  meet.' 

The  following  is  from  the  Tiirtle-Dove.  It  is  put  in 
the  original  into  more  careful  rhyme  than  most  of  the 
rest,  perhaps  as  being  intended  to  be  sung  : — 

List  every  faithful  man  hereto  :  once  at  the  Church'es  gate, 
Think  of  it  oft — your  soul  did  choose  Lord  Christ  to  be  her  mate. 
He  is  our  soul's  espoused  ;  O,  love  ye  Him  wnth  might, 
And  wend  ye  never  from  Him  by  daylight  or  by  night. 
Though  He  from  sight  hath  fared,  yet  be  we  to  Him  true  ; 
When  we  have  such  an  old  love,  why  should  we  seek  a  new  ? 
Believe  we  that  He  liveth  aye,  and  up  in  heaven  doth  reign. 
And  that  from  thence  to  judge  the  world  on  earth  He  comes 
again.2 

I  pass  to  some  others  of  the  religious  poems  of  the 
thirteenth  century  collected  by  Dr.  Morris  in  his  Old 
English  Miscellany.  The  Poema  Morale  may  per- 
haps date  from  the  first  year  or  two  of  King  John's 
reign.  It  embodies  the  solemn  reflections  of  a  man  far 
advanced  in  years  awaking  to  the  shortcomings  of  his 
life,  and  anxious  that  the  grave  thoughts  which  come 
into  his  mind  should  warn  and  encourage  others.  It 
begins  thus : — 

A  winter  older  than  I  was,  I  'm  older  eke  in  lore  ; 

My  goods  are  greater  than  they  were, — my  wit  it  should  be  more. 

1  A  Bestiary,  291-94,  E.E.T.S.  No.  49  : 

The  mire  suneth  the  barlic,  thanne  ye  fint  te  wete. 

-  Id.  714-29: 

List  ilk  lefiful  man  her-to,  and  herof  oft  reche  : 
Ure  sowle  atte  kirke  dure  ches  hire  crist  to  meche. 


36  Religious  Thought  in 

Too  long  have  I  a  child  y-been  in  work,  and  eke  in  deed, 
And  though  my  age  be  winter  old,  too  young  am  I  in  rede. 
A  life  of  little  boon  I  've  led,  and  still,  methinks,  I  lead  ; 
And  when  I  think  me  thereupon,  full  sorely  do  I  dread. 
In  childishness  and  idleness  my  life  is  wellnigh  past  : 
Too  late  have  I  bethought  myself,  unless  God's  kindness  last. 
Many  the  idle  word  I  've  said  ; — sorely  I  speak  the  truth — 
Many  my  headstrong  deeds,  whereof  I  'm  pinched  now  with  ruth. 
Too  often  have  I  guilty  been  in  work  alike  and  word, 
Too  mickle  have  I  spent  on  self,  too  little  laid  in  hoard  : 
All  that  I  lik^d  best  of  old,  that  most  mislikes  me  now  ; 
For  he  who  follows  most  his  will,  he  cheats  himself,  I  trow.^ 

Then  he  continues  of  the  need  of  a  man  laying  up  for 
himself  a  treasure  in  heaven  ;  how  no  evil  goes  un- 
punished, no  good  unrequited,  and  how  every  one  must 
go  before  his  Lord  and  receive  his  wages  according  to 
his  earnings.  Each  man  shall  be  his  own  judge,  and 
his  own  works  will  bear  witness  for  or  against  him. 
Then  comes  a  solemn  and  terrible  picture  of  the  doom 
of  the  wicked  ;  then  of  loving  God  with  all  our  might 
and  our  neighbour  as  ourselves  : — 

For  all  that  e'er  we  read  or  sing  before  God's  holy  board 
Holdeth  and  hangeth  upon  these  the  twain  things  of  His  Word. 
All  law  of  God  doth  he  fulfil,  the  new  one  and  the  old. 
Who  hath  within  him  there  two  loves,  and  Avill  them  well  up- 
hold.2 

I  next  quote  from  a  poem  on   TJie  Passion  of  0?tr 
Lord: — 

Then  came  He  toward  Jerusalem  upon  a  Palm  Sunday, 
He  had  no  princely  robe  of  fur.  He  wore  no  robe  of  gray, 

[badger's  fur] 
He  had  no  steed  to  ride  upon.  He  had  no  palefray,  [palfrey] 
P)Ut  meekly  rode  upon  an  ass,  as  I  to  you  may  say, 
And  as  He  came  into  the  burgh,  thus  riding  as  a  King, 
Forth  came  the  children  unto  Him,  and  sweetly  they  did  sing, 

^  A  Moral  Ode,  1-14,  in  E.E.T.S.  No.  49  : 

Ich  am  cldre  than  icli  wes  a  winter  and  ek  on  lore, 
Ich  welde  more  than  ich  dude,  my  wyt  auhte  beo  more. 
Wei  h:)nge  ich  habbe  child  ibeo  a  werke  and  eke  on  dede 
Thuh  ich  beo  of  wynter  old,  to  yong  ich  am  on  rede. 

•-■  IcL  305-8  : 

Al  that  me  rcdeth  and  syngeth  bivoren  godes  borde 
Al  hit  hongelh  and  hald  bi  thisse  twain  worde. 


Old  E^iglish  Verse  37 

'Yea,  blessed  must  He  be,'  said  they,  'that  cometh  in  God's  name,' 
Which  filled  the  Jews  and  Pharisees  with  anger  and  with  grame 

[malice].^ 

From  Sinner  Beware  I  I  extract  one  verse  mainly  to 
exemplify  the  metre  : — 

Naked,  forsooth,  and  bare. 
With  weeping  and  with  care. 

We  did  begin  to  live. 
So  from  hence  shall  we  fare, 
And  all  our  boasting  there 

In  the  grave  lay  and  leave.^ 

In  the  poem   On   Serving  Christ,  the   two    first    lines 
are  :  — 

W^hy  serve  we  not  the  Christ  ?  his  health  why  want  ? 
We  who  were  christened  at  the  holy  font."* 

The  verses  hitherto  quoted  from  this  collection  of 
thirteenth  century  composition  have  been  by  unknown 
authors.  But  next  comes  a  sort  of  divine  love-song 
written  by  Thomas  Hales,  a  Minorite  friar,  for  a  certain 
maiden  who  had  dedicated  herself  to  God.  I  quote  a 
couple  of  stanzas  from  it : — 

Sweet  are  the  ways,  if  ye  but  knew. 

And  goodly,  of  the  Heavenly  Child. 
Full  fair  is  He,  and  bright  of  hue. 

His  cheer  is  glad.  His  mood  is  mild, 
Lovesome  His  heart,  trusty  and  true. 

Free  heart,  a  soul  with  wisdom  filled. 
Never,  believe  me,   would  ye  rue, 

If  ye  to  Him  true  worship  yield. 

1   The  Passion  of  Our  Lord,  64-72,  E.E.T.S.  No.  49: 

Tho  he  com  toward  ierusalem  a  palnie  sune-day 
Ne  hedde  he  none  robe  of  fowe  ne  of  gray. 

-  Sinner  Beware,  212-6  : 

Sothliche  nakede  and  bare, 
With  wope  and  with  care, 

We  come  to  thisse  lyue. 
Al  so  we  schule  fare, 
And  all  ure  prude  thare 
Vor-leten  and  bileuen. 
^  On  Serving  Christ,  1-2  : 

Hwi  ne  serue  we  Crist  and  secheth  his  sauht, 
Seoththe  vs  wes  at  the  font  fulluht  by-tauht. 


^S  Religious  Thought  in 

Richest  is  He  in  all  the  land, 

Far  as  man  speaketh  with  the  mouth  ; 
He  bendeth  all  into  His  hand, 

In  East  and  West,  in  North  and  South, 
Henry,  the  king-  of  broad  England, 

Holdeth  of  Him,  and  to  Him  boweth, 
Maiden,  He  bids  thee  understand 

That  He  would  have  thy  willing  troth.^ 

The  next  quotation  is  from  an  Orison  of  Our  Lord  \ — 

Thee,  Jesu  Christ — Thee,  Lord,  I  greet, 
Thee  who  wert  born  of  maiden  sweet. 
Thou  underwentest  all  our  woe, 
But  without  sin,  right  well  we  know. 
Thou,  e'en  as  we,  didst  walk  and  speak  ; 
Thou  didst  bear  thirst  and  hunger  eke. 
Buxom  [obedient]  wert  Thou,  and  poor,  I  wis, 
A  Master  true,  and  nought  amiss. 

Jesu,  I  greet  Thee,  Saviour  mine, 
Thee,  who  for  us  didst  suffer  pain  ; 
And  wondrously  by  watch  and  fast 
For  us  Thy  fair,  dear  limbs  didst  waste. 
That  we  do  good,  and  evil  leave 
Right  good  fore-teaching  Thou  didst  give. 
No  greater  love  than  this  may  be. 
Than  to  bear  death,  us  men  to  free.^ 

And  so  the  poem  continues  with  the  last  sufferings  of 
our  Lord.  Another  Song  on  the  Passio7i  bears  more 
evident  traces  of  the  Romance,  as  it  was  being  intro- 
duced from  France,  both  in  its  tone  and  in  the  character 
of  its  versification.     It  begins  with  these  verses  : —  ' 

Summer  is  come  and  winter  gone, 
Groweth  the  day  both  fair  and  long, 

And  now  the  birdcs  every  one 

Gladden  themselves  with  merry  song. 

'  A  Luve  Ron,  90-104,  in  E.E.T.S.  No.  49. 
A  swcte,  if  ihu  iknowe, 

The  gode  thewes  of  thissc  childc, 
lie  is  feyr,  and  bright  on  heowe, 
Of  glede  chere,  of  mode  mylde. 

2  All  Onson  of  Our  Lortiy  11-25. 

Jhcsuc  ich  the  grete,  as  ich  er  seyde, 

Thu  were  ibore,  loucrd,  of  tiie  swete  mayde. 


Old  E7tglisk  Verse  39 

Yet  with  care  my  heart  is  bound 
All  amidst  the  joy  that 's  found 
In  the  land. 
All  for  a  Child 
That  is  so  mild 
In  hand. 

Tender  is  He,  in  sooth,  and  good. 

And  great  in  heart,  and  wise  in  thought, 
And  far  o'er  brake,  and  bank,  and  wood, 
Long  while  in  love  He  sought  me  out. 
And,  behold,  He  hath  found  me 
For  the  apple  of  a  tree 
Y-bound. 
He  brake  the  thong 
That  was  so  strong 
With  His  wound. 

Jesu  is  that  Childes  name. 

And  King  He  is  in  every  land  ; 
Yet  of  that  King  did  they  make  game, 
And  smote  Him  with  a  ruthless  hand  : 
They  hung  Him  on  the  cruel  tree. 
They  gave  Him  woundes  two  and  three. 
Yea,  all 
Mocking  looked  up 
And  gave  the  cup 
Ofgall.i 

From  The  Duty  of  Christians : — 

There  is  day  withouten  night ; 

And  there  no  heart  shall  sigh. 
There  is  peace  withouten  fright. 

In  that  realm  heavenly. 
There  is  truth  without  unright, 

Ever  and  equally  :— 
All  be  alike,  both  churl  and  knight, 

Both  rich  and  poor  on  high.''^ 

Here  are  six  lines  on  the  world-old  mystery  of  human 
life.     It  is  entitled  TJiree  Sorroivful  Tidings  : — 

Each  day  come  to  me  tidings  three  ; 
And  to  my  heart  full  sore  they  be  : 


A  Song  on  the  Passion^  r-20,  30-39,  in  E.E.T.S.  No.  49  : 
Somer  is  comen  and  winter  gon, 
This  day  beginning  to  longe. 

The  Duty  of  Christians^  1-8,  72-80. 


40  Religious  Thought  in 

This  irks  me  first,  that  I  must  go; 
This  next,  that  '  when '  I  cannot  know  ; 
But  third  there  comes  my  foremost  care  : — 
I  know  not  '  whither^  I  shall  fare.^ 

I  conclude  my  renderings  from  this  collection  of  thir- 
teenth century  verses  with  a  rather  amusing  extract. 
It  is  from  a  piece  entitled  A  Ltitel  Soth  Sermujt.  It 
begins  : — 

Hearken  to  me  ye  good  folk  all 

And  sit  ye  still  adown. 
Listen,  and  I  will  tell  to  you 

A  little  Sooth  Sermoun. 

Then,  after  a  short  preface  about  the  fall  of  man  and 
about  the  redemption  by  Christ,  he  first  pronounces  his 
warnings  against  the  graver  sins  of  violence  and  theft ; 
then  he  speaks  against  petty  cheating  in  trade,  chap- 
men who  use  short  measures,  bakers  who  palm  off  on 
the  poor  bad  bread,  and  brewers  who  brew  bad  ale. 
Then,  in  a  lighter  strain,  of  the  lads  and  froward  lasses 
who  thought  of  their  lovers  more  than  of  their  prayer- 
books  : — 

Each  one,  when  to  Church  he  comes, 

On  a  holy  day. 
Fain  is  he  his  love  to  see. 

If  perchance  he  may. 
She  beholdeth  Walter-kin     ' 

Glad  with  merry  eye  ; 
At  home  her  Pater  Noster  is 

Locked  up  in  her  tie  [chest]. 
Masses  she  and  Matins 

Reckoneth  for  nought, — 
Williekin  or  Wattiekin 

He  in  all  her  thought. 
Robin  carries  Gillot  dear 

With  him  to  the  ale  ; 
There  they  two  together  sit, 

Sit,  and  tell  their  tale. 
He  will  ti^uit  her  reckoning  : 

Ever  'tis  the  same — 

^_  Three  Sorrowful  Tidings  : 

Vyche  day  me  cumeth  tydinges  threo, 
For  wel  swithe  sore  beoth  heo. 


Old  English  Verse  4 1 

Evening  she  must  go  with  him  : 

Pincheth  her  no  shame. 
Threaten  father,  threaten  dame, 

That  they  her  will  beat. 
Robin  she  will  not  forego, 

Not  for  all  their  threat.^ 

And  so  the  heedless  girl  comes  to  sorrow ;  and  the 
homilist  again  changes  his  tone,  and  beseeches  the 
people  that  for  God's  love  they  will  forsake  their  sins, 
and  tread  in  the  way  to  heaven. 

Stories  of  martyrs  have  always  been  to  the  popular 
mind  a  fascinating  part  of  Christian  literature.  This 
taste  was  abundantly  provided  for  in  the  lives  of  saints. 
The  sufferings  of  St.  Juliana  are  told  in  one  of  the 
manuscripts  which  survive  from  Anglo-Saxon  times. 
Among  the  different  versions  of  St.  Margaret^  Maiden 
and  Martyr,  the  earliest,  transcribed  about  1230,  ap- 
pears to  have  been  composed  in  English  about  the 
middle  of  the  twelfth  century,  and  is  therefore  particu- 
larly interesting  to  students  of  early  English.  The 
torments  to  which  the  virgin  was  subjected  by  the 
tyrant  Olybrius  are  told  in  a  vivid  narrative,  doubtless 
all  the  more  attractive  by  being  so  highly  coloured. 
I  quote  from  one  of  the  prayers  put  into  the  mouth  of 
the  martyr.     It  is  in  alliterative  verse : — 

Dark  are  Thy  dooms,  dear  Lord,  but  doughty  all ; 

Both  heaven  and  earth  to  Thee  do  bow  and  bend. 

For  hope  Thou  art  and  help  to  all  that  hear  Thee. 

Foster  and  father  Thou  to  helpless  bairns. 

The  weal  of  wedded  men,  the  widow's  warrant. 

The  meed  of  maidens,  the  world's  winsomeness. 

O  Jesu  Christ,  King-born,  kindled  of  God, 

As  light  of  learn  (gleam),  look.  Lord,  my  Life,  upon  me  ; 


A  Lutel  Soth  Serniun,  61-84,  in  E.E.T.S.  No.  49 
Hwenne  heo  to  chirche  cumeth 

to  thon  holy  daye, 
Euersych  wile  his  leof  iseo 

ther  yef  he  may. 
Heo  biholdeth  Watekin 

mid  sweth  gled  eye 
Atom  his  hire  pater  noster, 

biloken  in  hire  teye. 


42  Religious  Thought  in 

Be  mild  to  me,  Thy  Maiden  ;  for  my  father 
Drove  me  his  only  daughter  from  his  door, 
And  friends  are  foemen  for  thy  love,  O  Lord  ; 
But  Thee  I  have,  High  Healer,  Father,  Friend.^ 

The  following  are  some  lines  on  Christ's  Crucifixion, 
taken  from,  or  suggested  by  a  meditation  of  St.  Augus- 
tine. The  manuscript  was  given  to  the  Durham  Library 
by  their  prior  between  1240  and  1258  : — 

White  was  His  hallowed  breast. 

And  red  with  blood  his  side  ; 
Wan  was  His  comely  face  ; 

His  wound  was  deep  and  wide. 

Stiff  were  His  outstretched  arms. 

High  spread  upon  the  rood. 
And  from  five  piteous  wounds 

The  streams  ran  down  in  blood.'-^ 

The  lines  next  quoted  come  from  a  thirteenth  cen- 
tury poem  on  the  Assumption,  taken  most  likely  from 
the  Latin  : — 

When  Jesu  Christ  was  slain  on  rood. 

And  bore  to  die  for  our  good. 

Then  called  He  unto  Him  St.  John  ! 

Who  was  to  Him  his  own  kinsman. 

And  His  own  mother  called  He  too, 

And  other  none  beside  these  two. 

Then  s<iid  He,  'Woman,  lo,  thy  child  ! 

Here  on  the  Cross  this  blood  is  spilled. 

Now  am  I  hanged  on  this  tree. 

And  well,  I  wot,  it  reweth  thee. 

My  feet  and  hands  with  blood  are  red, 

And  without  guilt  I  bear  this  ded  (death). 

My  people  who  ought  me  to  love, 

For  whom  I  came  from  heaven  above, 

My  own,  have  put  me  thus  to  shame. 

I  have  no  guilt  ;  theirs  is  the  blame. 

I  ask  my  Father  for  this  boon. 

That  He  forgive  it  them  full  soon.-" 

1  Seinte  Marherete,  ed.  by  O.  Cockayne;    E.E.T.S.  No.  13: 
Deorewurdhe  diightin,  thah  thine  domes  derne  beon,  alle  ha  beodh  duhti 
Alle  heoucnliche  thing  ant  eordliche  badhe  buhedh  the  ant  beiedh. 

'^  Poems ^  elc.^  of  Thirteenth  Century,  ed.  by  P\irnivall,  E.E.T.S. 
No.  15  :   '  Wyth  was  his  halude  brest.' 

2  The  Assumpiioiai,  ed.  by  R.  Lumby  for  E.E.T.S.  No.  14:  'Whan 
Jhesu  Crist  was  done  on  rode.' 


Old  English  Verse  43 

Three  hymns  dating  from  the  earlier  part  of  the 
thirteenth  century  are  appended  by  Dr.  Morris  to  some 
Early  English  homilies.  The  Hymn  to  God  is  by 
no  means  wanting  in  sublimity  of  thought.  I  quote 
the  first  four  verses.  The  succeeding  verses  are  mainly 
an  amplification  of  the  Lord's  Prayer  : — 

Well  it  behoveth  for  to  speak,  to  counsel,  and  to  sing 

Of  Him  whom  none  may  lightly  reck,  great  King  of  every  king  ; 

For  He  may  bind,  and  He  may  break,  and  He  to  bliss  may 

bring. 
Lock  and  unbar  at  will,  mighty  o'er  everything. 

Father  of  men,  heaven's  Lord,  health,  comfort,  and  delight ! 
The  things  that  are  and  were — all  things  are  in  Thy  sight  : 
To  day  thou  giv'st  the  sun,  the  moon  unto  the  night  : 
Thy  strength  may  no  man  tell,  no  man  may  tell  Thy  might  1 

Thy  holy  name  be  hallowed  in  heaven  and  in  earth. 

Thou  wroughtest  fire,  wind,  water,  and,  for  fourth, 

That  of  which  men  are  made,  the  mould  of  holy  earth. 

O  draw  us  nearer  to  Thee,  Thou  God  that  know'st  our  birth  ! 

Father  and  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  one  God  in  three-foldness, 
Thou  hast  no  lack  nor  least ;  Thou  hast  all  holiness  ! 
Well  dost  Thou  wot,  O  God,  our  need,  our  helplessness  ; 
But  in  Thy  hand  is  might ;  O  look  on  us,  and  bless  ?  ^ 

A  Hymn  to  Our  Saviour  is  one  in  a  collection  of 
sacred  and  secular  poems  of  Edward  the  First's  reign  : 

Ah,  sweetest  Jesu,  King  of  bliss, 

Thou  my  heart's  love.  Thou  my  heart's  ease, 

Jesu,  Thy  sweetness  well  I  wis  ; 

'Tis  woe  to  him  who  Thee  shall  miss  ! 

Ah,  sweetest  Jesu,  my  heart's  light, 
In  Thee  is  day,  in  Thee  no  night  ; 
O  give  me  strength,  and  give  me  might, 
That  I  may  love  Thee,  Lord,  aright  ! 

Jesu,  in  Thee  my  heart  finds  boot : 
Within  my  heart  O  set  the  root 
Of  Thy  dear  love,  that  is  so  swote  ;  [sweet] 
And  blest  by  Thee  forth  may  it  shoot. 

^  Old  English  Homilies  of  the  Twelfth  Century :  with  Appendix,  ed. 
by  Rev.  R.  Morris;  E.E.T.S.  No.  53  :  'Hit  bilimpeth  forto  speke,  to 
reden,  and  to  singe. ' 


44  Religious  Thought  in 


O  sweetest  Jesu,  my  heart's  gleam, 
And  brighter  than  the  bright  sunbeam, 
Thou,  who  wast  born  in  Bethlehem, 
Art  music  to  my  soul,  I  deem. 

Ah,  sweetest  Jesu,  Lord  of  mine. 
My  life,  my  heart,  and  all  is  Thine. 
Unlock  my  heart,  set  light  therein 
And  guard  me  from  the  tempter's  tine. 

O  sweetest  Jesu,  my  soul's  food. 

Sweet  are  Thy  works,  dear  Lord,  and  good 

Thou  boughtest  me  upon  the  rood  ; 

For  me  Thou  sheddest  Thy  heart's  blood  ! 

Sweet  Jesu,  it  doth  rue  me  sore 
The  guilt  that  I  have  wrought  of  yore  : 
Thy  grace.  Thy  mercy,  on  me  pour. 
Ah,  Lord,  I  fain  would  sin  no  more. 


0  Jesu,  well  to  him  shall  be 

Who  in  the  bliss  Thy  face  shall  see  ! 
If  but  Thy  angels  come  for  me 

1  seek  not  here  for  game  or  glee. 

Ah,  sweetest  Jesu,  heaven's  King, 
Fairest  and  best  of  every  thing, 
O  speed  me  well  in  my  longing, 
And  come  to  me  at  my  ending.^ 

The  following  is  the  first  verse  of  another  hymn  in  the 
same  collection  : — 

Little  doth  any  man  take  heed. 

How  straitly  he  is  bound 
By  Love  that  on  the  rood  did  bleed. 
And  bought  us  with  His  wound. 
The  love  of  Him  hath  made  us  sound. 
And  cast  the  grisly  ghost  to  ground. 
Ever  and  aye,  both  night  and  day,  He  beareth  us  in  thought, 
He  would  not  lightly  lose  what  He  so  dear  hath  bought.^ 

^  Specimens  of  Lyric  Poetry  of  the  Reign  of  Edward  I. ,  ed.  by  Th.  Wright. 
Percy  Society,  vol.  iv.  No.  xviii : 

Suele  Jhesu,  King  of  blysse 
Myn  huerte  love,  min  huerte  lisse. 

2  /d.  No.  xl.  :   '  Lutcl  wot  hit  any  mon. ' 


Old  English  Verse  45 

The  Cursor  Mundi,  or  Course  of  the  Worlds  is  a 
work  of  something  the  same  character  as  the  Ormulum. 
The  four  existing  manuscripts  of  it  as  a  whole  are  of 
various  dates  in  the  fourteenth  century,  but  there  is  a 
copy  of  parts  of  it  which  is  supposed  to  have  been  made 
about  1300.  It  was  written  originally  in  Norman- 
French,  and  was  evidently  translated  into  our  own 
tongue  by  one  who  lived  at  a  time  when  the  line 
between  Englishman  and  Norman  and  English  and 
Norman-French  was  still  tolerably  strongly  marked. 
There  is  something  almost  defiant  in  the  loving  tone 
with  which  he  dwells  upon  the  name  of  Englishman. 
Let,  he  says,  the  *frankis-man' — the  Frenchman — have 
what  is  most  profitable  to  him.  But  no  Englishmen 
can  understand  it ;  let  them  have  what  they  can  take 
in.     Wherefore,  he  continues,  I  translate  this  book 

In  to  Inglis  tong  to  rede, 

For  the  love  of  Inglis  lede  [people] 

Inglis  lede  of  England.^ 

He  writes  with  an  earnest  hope  that  the  book  may 
arrest  the  attention  of  those  who  have  been  living  heed- 
lessly and  for  the  world  : 

And  to  those  folk  I  speak  the  maist 

Who  dwell  in  unwork  and  in  waste. 

In  trifling  and  in  trewantise  {''"Tgh?°«^j'!''' 

Jesu  to  me  His  good  grace  send 

That  what  I  write  may  them  amend.^ 

The  Courier  of  the  World  carries  its  reader  through 
the  chief  events — the  '  gestes  principale  ' — of  the  Bible 
from  beginning  to  end,  not  without  many  imaginary  or 
legendary  additions  ;  and,  looking  forward  to  the  future 
of  the  world,  descants  of  the  coming  of  Anti-Christ,  and 
of  the  Day  of  Judgment.  It  is  written  with  much 
vigour,  and  was  deservedly  popular.  The  Bodleian 
manuscript  is  prefaced  with  the  heading  that  '  This  is  in 

^  Cursor  Mtcndi,  233,  in  E.E.T.S.  ed.  Morris. 
2  /(f/.  251  :  '  And  to  thoo  speke  i  ahher-mast.' 


46  Religions  Thought  in 

the  best  boke  of  alle :  The  Cours  of  the  Werlde  men 
dos  hit  calle.'  The  Trinity  College  (Cambridge)  MS. 
calls  it  *  The  boke  of  storyes  that  men  callen  Cursor 
Mundi.'  It  is  quite  possible  that  even  in  our  own  time 
a  well-written  series  of  Bible  stories,  not  written  for 
children,  but  easily  and  graphically  told  in  simple  verse, 
might  still  be  in  considerable  demand. 

The  following  are  some  lines  from  the  Story  of  the 
Flood : — 

When  all  was  wrought,  there  was  no  bide  ; 

The  storms  uprose  on  every  side  ; 

Sun  and  moon  their  beams  must  hide — 

Murky  was  all  this  world  so  wide. 

The  rain  it  fell  full  fierce  and  fast ; — 

The  burns  o'erran  ;  the  banks  were  burst  ; 

The  sea  it  rose  ;  the  earth  it  clove  ; 

The  springs  o'er  all  the  world  outdrove. 

Lightning  with  thunder  fell  and  rain, 

The  whole  earth  quaked  and  dinned  again. 

Sun  and  moon  had  lost  their  light, 

All  this  world  was  turned  to  night. 

Men  saw  the  woe  with  fear  and  awe  ; 

Their  cities  fell  both  high  and  low. 

The  water  waxed  o'er  all  the  plains  ; 

The  beasts  ran  up  to  the  mountains. 

Men  and  women  went  them  with, 

Well  they  weaned  to  win  them  grith  [peace]. 

But  all  for  nought  they  toiled  afoot, — 

\\Tien  they  came  there,  it.  was  no  boot.^ 

The  following  is  of  St.  Stephen's  martyrdom  : — 

While  they  him  with  stoning  quelled, 

Up  to  heaven  his  hand  he  held  : 

Upon  his  knees  he  down  him  set. 

With  prayer  of  price  his  Lord  he  greet. 

'  Good  Lord  ! '  he  said,  '  to  Thee,  Jesu, 

Yield  I  my  ghost,  receive  it  now. 

Lord,  these  men  forgive  their  plight, 

For  of  a  sooth  have  they  no  sight.' 

With  this  his  hallowed  ghost  he  yold  [yielded] 

To  Jesu,  that  for  him  was  sold.- 

'   Cursor  Jl/utidi,  1761  :   '  Quen  al  was  lift,  was  thar  na  bide.' 

2  /(/.  11.  19,467-76,  E.  E.  T.  S.  :   *  Quils  thai  him  with  staning  queld." 


Old  Eiiglish  Verse  47 

I  also  give  a  specimen  of  the  practical  teaching  given 
in  the  book  : 

Therefore  this  Hfe  he  hath  us  lent 

To  serve  Him  aye  with  our  intent, 

To  hold  aye  well  His  commandment ; 

If  we  do  miss,  do  mend^ment. 

Ordained  to  travail  is  this  life, 

Against  our  foes  therein  to  strive. 

The  flesh,  the  world,  and  the  foul  fiend 

Bounden  are  we  to  ward  and  fend. 

The  flesh  to  ill  lusts  leadeth  us  ; 

Spiteful  the  world  and  covetous  ; 

The  fiend  is  fell  with  wrath  and  pride. 

These  war  with  us  on  every  side  : 

These  three  then  we  must  well  forth  drive 

If  we  would  truly  lead  our  life, 

For  both  may  quell  them — man  and  wife  [woman] — 

That  stalwartly  against  them  strive. 

And  if  we  stoutly  will  us  steer, 

Christ'es  good  help  shall  be  us  near — 

His  help,  and  our  own  wisdom  eke, — 

If  we  will  truly  Him  beseech. 

If  we  will  use  on  them  our  might, 

They  certes  will  be  felled  in  fight. ^ 

Robert  of  Gloucester's  rhymed  Chronicle  was  written 
in  the  thirteenth  century.  He  speaks,  for  instance,  of 
the  great  darkness  of  the  day  of  the  battle  of  Evesham 
in  1265.  It  is  thought  that  he  lived  at  Oxford,  ap- 
pointed by  the  directors  of  the  great  abbey  at  Glou- 
cester to  take  charge  at  the  University  of  the  youths 
who  had  been  trained  by  them.  I  will  give  an  extract 
from  his  work  in  illustration  of  the  First  Crusade.  He 
has  been  speaking  of  the  famine  and  pestilence  which 
worked  ravage  among  the  Crusaders  in  1098  : — 

Then  many  a  one  of  hunger  died  ;  how  might  the  woe  be  more  ? 
And  amid  all  the  Christian  host  was  sorrow  great  and  sore. 
No  sort  of  hope  was  left  to  them  of  better  time  to  come  : 
They  had  not  strength  to  carry  arms,  and  so  were  overcome. 
At  last  our  sweet  Lord  thought  in  mercy  of  that  death  : 
He  came  unto  a  holy  man,  and  to  him  this  word  saith  : — 


Cursor  Mundi,  23,741-63  :   '  Forlhi  this  lijf  he  has  us  lent.' 


48  Religio2is  Thought  in 

'  Go,  say  unto  the  Christian  men,  those  of  the  western  land 

Aforetime  led  I  them  with  love,  and  with  a  gentle  hand  ; 

I  made  them  win  the  town  of  Nice,  that  great  and  strong  city, 

And  many  another  battle  more,  the  while  they  served  me. 

Yet  though  I  did  all  this  for  them,  faithless  from  me  they  wend  ; 

In  sin  and  lust  most  woefully  they  do  their  deeds  of  shame 

With  paynims  of  a  heathen  land,  mindless  of  my  great  name. 

The  savour  of  their  evil  deeds  has  risen  to  heaven  on  high.' 

The  good  man  fell  at  the  Lord's  feet  in  all  humility. 

'  O,  if  it  be  Thy  will,'  he  said,  'good  Lord,  in  this  our  need 

Help  them  e'en  now,  and  still  forgive  their  foul  and  sinful  deed.' 

'  Yea,  I  have  helped  them,'  said  the  Lord,  '  aforetime,  well  I  wis, 

And  I  will  help  in  time  to  come.     But  go,  and  bid  them  this,— 

That  they  do  turn  again  to  Me  ;  so  will  I  without  fail, 

Even  in  these  five  days  to  come,  be  with  them  in  battail.' 

—  Mark  ye  from  this  how  e'en  a  few,  by  sin  of  lechery. 

May  take  away  the  grace  of  God  from  all  their  company. — 

And  then  the  holy  man  went  forth,  and  told  to  every  one 

That  grace  again  was  won  to  them,  and  wherefore  grace  had  gone. 

So  when  they  heard  that  grace  was  given,  surely  great  joy  was 

there  ; 
And  for  three  days  were  orisons,  fasting,  and  solemn  prayer. 
Yea,  there  were  many  masses,  many  processions  made. 
And  then  with  great  devotion  were  many  confessions  said. 
And  when  each  one  had  owned  his  sin  with  great  devotioun, 
Then  weeping  put  he  on  his  mail,  the  while  his  tears  ran  down. 
In  seven  parts  were  ranged  the  host  under  knights  brave  and  true. 
The  Earl  of  Flanders  led  the  first,  and  the  great  earl.  Sir  Hugh, 
Duke  Godfrey  ruled  the  next,  and  Earl  Baldwin  also  ; 
Robert  Courthose  the  third,  as  none  could  better  do  ; 
He  was  best  knight  of  all,  his  peer  you  might  not  see. 
The  Bishop  next  of  Padua  led  the  fourth  company. 
Sir  William  de  Montpellier  in  the  fifth  led  the  right, 
vSir  Richard  de  Pruyce,  and  Tancred  the  good  knight. 
The  sixth  the  Earl  of  Rasquele,  and  with  him  Earl  Beaumont. 
To  these  the  government  was  given  ;  and  after  this  was  done, 
In  honour  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  a  seventh  then  made  they. 
And  named  Sir  Raymond  chief.     Such  was  the  whole  array. 
Sir  Raymond  with  good  company  kept  stalwart  watch  behind. 
That  if  the  men  should  suffer  need,  here  they  might  refuge  find. 
When  all  was  ready  as  they  would,  they  blest  themselves  each  one, 
And  asked  God's  grace,  and  so  to  battle  went  anon. 
'Inhere  was  great  calling  upon  God,  and  many  a  weeping  eye, 
Of  them  that  tarried  from  the  field,  but  might  the  fray  descry, 
Of  bishops  who  were  there,  and  priests,  men  of  religioun. 
And  thereupon  the  clerkly  men,  with  good  de\otioun, 
In  seemly  robes  within  the  church  'gan  unto  God  to  cry. 
With  tears,  and  with  processions,  and  sang  their  litany 


Old  English  Verse  49 

And  such  like  fitting  orisons,  praying  to  God  for  all  ; 
And  for  to  see  the  battle  stood  upon  the  high  town  wall'  ^ 

The  early  romances,  prose  and  metrical,  have  very 
commonly  a  strain  of  religious  thought  inwoven  in  their 
fabric.  The  two  earliest,  both  of  them  thoroughly 
English  in  character,  are  King  Horn,  and  Havelok 
the  Dane.  King  Horn,  taken  apparently  from  an  old 
English  lay.  was  written  in  French  by  Waldef,  in  the 
reign  of  Richard  I.  The  earliest  English  manuscript 
of  it  dates  from  the  latter  half  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
The  old  English  lay  must  have  had  its  origin  at  a  time 
when  the  terrible  irruptions  of  the  heathen  Danes  were 
yet  more  or  less  fresh  in  memory.  But  when  the 
French  version  was  made,  the  mind  of  Europe  was  in 
the  full  ferment  of  the  Crusades  ;  and  so  the  Pagans, 
who  had  doubtless  been  Danes  in  the  original  story, 
were  converted  into  Saracens.  The  tale  begins  with 
an  account  of  an  invasion  of  these  heathens  into  the 
land  of  King  Murry,  father  of  Horn. 

The  Pagans  came  to  land, 
And  took  it  in  their  hand  ; 
The  folk  they  gan  to  quell. 
The  churches  they  did  fell.- 

The  king  was  slain,  and  Horn  fell  into  the  hands  of 
the  heathens.     The  queen,  Godhild,  fled. 

She  went  out  of  hall 

From  her  maidens  all. 

Under  a  rock  of  stone 

There  she  lived  alone, 

There  she  served  God, 

Against  Pagan  forbode  [prohibition]  : 

There  she  served  Christ, 

Though  no  paynim  wist. 

Ever  she  prayed  for  her  child 

That  Jesu  Christ  be  to  him  mild. 

^  Robert  of  Gloucester' s  Chronicle,  2  vols.,  ed.  by  T.  Hearne,  1724  : 
Vor  honger  deyde  monyon,  hou  mygte  be  more  wo  ? 
Muche  was  the  sorwe,  that  among  hem  was  tho. — p.  404-6. 
2  King Hor7i,  1.  59  ;  ed.  by  R.  Lumby,  E.E.T.S.  No.  14  : 
The  pains  come  to  londe, 
And  neme  hit  in  here  honde. 
D 


50  Religio2cs  Thought  in 

Horn  was  in  Pagan  hand 
With  the  people  of  the  land  : 
Mickle  was  he  fair  in  face  ; 
Christ  had  made  him  so  by  grace.^ 

When  Horn  had  conquered  the  Saracens,  his  first 
work  was  to  rebuild  the  ruined  churches. 

Horn  let  work,  [caused  to  be  built] 
Chapell  and  kirk. 
He  let  bells  ring 
And  masses  sing.- 

At  the  end  Horn  and  his  queen  Rymenhild  came 
back  to  their  land,  and  lived  there  and  died  amid  the 
love  of  their  people  ;  and  the  poem  concludes  with  a 
Christianly  aspiration  : — 

Now  be  they  both  dead, 
Christ  to  heaven  them  lead. 
Here  ends  the  tale  of  Horn. 

Christ,  that  is  heaven  the  King, 

Send  us  all  His  sweet  blessing.     Amen.^ 

Havelok  the  Dane  is  likewise  of  English  origin, 
recovered  into  English  from  the  French  about  1280  A.D. 
The  story  of  it  is  laid  at  Grimsby  in  Lincolnshire,  pro- 
bably in  the  times  of  Ethelbert  of  Kent  and  Edwin  of 
Northumbria.  In  the  beginning  there  is  a  due  reminder 
of  Christian  faith  and  duty  : — 

Christ  make  us  ever  so  for  to  do 
That  we  may  all  come  Him  unto. 
And  may  He  will  it  may  be  so  ! 
Benedicamus  Domino  I  * 

^  King  Horn,  1.  71,  ed.  by  R.  Lumby,  E.E.T.S.  No.  14  : 

He  wenten  ut  of  halle 

From  hire  maidenes  alle. 
'Id.  1379- 

Horn  let  wurche. 
:'  A/.  1523: 

Nu  ben  hi  bothe  dede. 

•»  T/ie  Lay  of  Havelok  the  Dane,  1.  17-21,  ed.  by  W.  W.  Skeat,  for 
E.E.T.S.  No.  4  (extra  series). 

Krist,  late  us  hevere  so  for  to  do, 
That  we  moten  comcn  him  to. 


Old  English  Verse  51 

It  begins  with  telling  of  the  good  king  Athelwold, 
who  was  loved  by  old  and  young,  earl  and  baron,  knight 
and  bondsman,  widows,  maidens,  priests  and  clerks,  and 
all  for  his  good  works  : — 

He  loved  God  with  all  his  might, 

And  holy  Church,  and  sooth  and  right.^ 

The  portion  surviving  of  the  story  of  Floriz  and 
Blaiincheflur,  is,  in  its  English  form  as  taken  from  the 
French,  of  about  the  same  date  as  Horn  and  Havelok. 
It  ends  with  the  lines,  evidently  a  sort  of  pious  formula 
proper  to  end  a  romance  of  any  sort : — 

After  sorrow  cometh  bliss  : 
Pray  we  that  God  grant  us  this, 
That  we  all  may  love  Him  so 
That  we  may  to  heaven  go.     Amen.^ 

Tennyson  has  so  far  familiarised  to  our  age  the  general 
subject  of  Arthurian  romance,  that  no  readers  are  un- 
aware of  the  spiritual  and  religious  element  which  per- 
vades it.  We  should  indeed  carry  away  a  very  mistaken 
idea  of  it,  if  we  transferred  to  its  original  authors  all  the 
delicate  idealism  and  mystic  charm  which  are  due  in 
great  measure  to  the  conception  of  the  modern  poet. 
But  the  mystical  and  ideal  element  and  the  lofty  spiritual 
tone  were  more  or  less  present  in  it  very  early.  Scarcely, 
however,  from  the  first.  In  the  fragmentary  romance, 
Arthur,  which  is  a  sort  of  abstract,  early  in  the  fifteenth 
century,  of  the  far  earlier  version  by  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth, written  by  him  about  the  middle  of  the  twelfth 
century,  there  is  quite  a  religious  tone,  but  it  is  of  the 
simplest  kind.  '  The  story  is  just  that  of  a  British  king, 
founding  the  Round  Table, conquering  Scotland,  Ireland, 
Gothland,  and  divers  parts  of  France,  killing  a  giant 
from  Spain,  beating  Lucius,  the  Emperor  of  Rome,  and 

^  The  Lay  of  Havelok  the  Dane,  35  : 

He  lovede  gode  with  all  his  micht. 
^  Floriz  and  Blauncheflur,  1.  820,  ed.  Lumby,  E.E.T.S.  No.  14: 

.     .     After  bale  cometh  bote 

God  leve  that  us  so  mote. 


52  Religious  Thought  in 

returning  home  to  lose  his  own  life  after  the  battle  in 
which  the  traitor  whom  he  had  trusted,  and  who  had 
seized  his  queen  and  his  land,  was  slain. '^  At  intervals 
the  teller  of  the  story  pauses,  and  calls  upon  his  hearers 
to  say  a  short  prayer  : 

Now  rest  ye  all  with  me, 
And  say  a  '  Pater'  and  '  Ave,'- 

or  other  words  to  a  similar  effect.  The  following  is  an 
extract  from  the  story  itself.  Arthur  had  just  received 
intelligence  that '  the  Emperor  with  his  host  were  coming 
fast  in  great  boast,'  covering  the  land,  in  number  four 
hundred  thousand,  a  hundred  and  four  and  twenty, 
gathered  to  him  of  Christian  and  of  Saracen,  purposing, 
*  with  all  his  wit  and  labour,'  to  destroy  the  British  king. 

With  th'  emperor,  kings  many  a  one 

And  all  their  power,  whole  and  some, 

Stronger  men  might  no  man  see, 

As  full  of  dread  as  they  might  be. 

But  Arthur,  he  was  not  dismayed  ; 

He  trusted  God  and  was  well  paid  [satisfied]. 

And  prayed  to  the  high  Trinity 

Ever  his  help  and  stay  to  be  ; 

And  all  his  men  with  single  voice 

Cried  unto  God  with  hearty  noise  : 

'  Father  in  heaven,  Thy  will  be  done  ; 

Defend  Thy  people  from  their  foe'n, 

And  let  not  godless  heathen  men 

Destroy  Thy  people  Christian  ; 

Have  mercy  on  Thy  servants'  land, 

And  keep  them  from  the  heathen's  hand. 

The  muckelness  of  man  sans  fail 

Giveth  not  victory  in  battail. 

But  as  Thy  will  in  heaven  is 

So  fallcth  \ictory,  we  wis.' ^ 

Such  stories  of  Arthur  had  probably  been  a  subject 
for   Welsh    and    Breton    lays   for   centuries.      But   the 

1  Arthur,  ed.  by  F.  J.  Furnivall,  E.E.T.S.  No.  2. 
'Id.  1.  189: 

Now  rcstclli  alle  wijth  me. 

=•  hi.  I.  423  : 

Wyth  the  Emperour  come  kynges  many  oon 
And  alle  theire  power  hoolle  and  soome. 


Old  English  Verse 


3J 


regular  cycle  of  Arthurian  romance  begins  a  little  later 
than  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  with  Walter  de  Map,  the 
able,  witty,  and  high-minded  chaplain  of  Henry  II.  It 
was  he  who  introduced  into  the  old  legend  an  ideal  of 
holy  purity  in  Sir  Galahad,  and  the  mystic  story  of 
the  Holy  Graal,  which  was  once  with  the  Knights  of 
the  Round  Table  a  warrant  of  honour  and  peace  in 
England,  but  which  disappeared  when  men  became 
sinful.  There  is  no  doubt  that  sight  of  the  Graal 
means,  in  purpose,  that  'the  pure  in  heart  shall  see 
God.'  1 

Joseph  of  Arimathea,  or  The  Romance  of  the  San 
Graal,  comes  first.  The  English  poem  dates  from 
about  1350,  and  follows  in  the  main  the  French  of 
Robert  de  Borron,  written  in  prose  before  1209.  The 
original  is  supposed  to  have  been  written  by  Walter 
de  Map  about  1170,  the  general  groundwork  of  the 
story,  then  entirely  disconnected  with  Britain,  being  the 
so-called  '  Gospel  of  Nicodemus.'  The  following  is  an 
extract  from  the  commission  which  Joseph,  after  a  forty 
years'  captivity,  was  supposed  to  have  received  from 
Christ  to  preach  the  Gospel  in  the  furthermost  parts  of 
the  earth  : 

'  Walk,  Joseph,  in  the  world,  and  preach  abroad  my  words 

Unto  the  proudest  men  ;  and  some  of  them  will  hear. 

And  though  men  speak  to  thee  with  menace  and  with  threat, 

Be  thou  no  whit  afraid,  for  thee  they  shall  not  harm.' 

'  Lord,  I  was  never  clerk  ;  what  if  I  should  not  know  ? ' 

'  Yea,  loose  thy  lips  at  wain,  and  let  the  spirit  work  : 

Speech,  grace,  and  voice  shall  spring  forth  from  thy  tongue, 

And  wholly  and  at  once  all  to  thy  lips  shall  come.' 

So  he  sets  forth  afoot  ;  he  takes  the  Holy  Blood, 

And  in  the  Fathers  name  straightway  he  forthward  wends.^ 

It  is  in  this  romance  that  we  have  the  red  cross  of 
England  accounted  for,  the  old  crusading  device  of  the 
Knight  Templars.     Joseph  is  here  described  as  making 

^  Cf.  Motley's  English  Writers,  iii.  134. 

-  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  or  The  Romance  of  the  San  Graal,  ed.  by 
W.  W.  Skeat  for  E.E.T.S.  No.  44:  'And,  Joseph,  walk  in  the  world 
and  preche  myne  wordes.' 


54  ReligioiLS  Thought  in 

the  red  cross  for  the  shield  of  Evelak,  king  of  Sarras, 
when  he  was  going  out  to  war : 

Then  Joseph  took  the  shield,  and  shaped  amidst  of  it 
A  cross  of  ruddy  cloth,  and  bade  him  thereupon, 
When  stress  and  peril  be  at  worst,  to  pray  to  Christ. 
For,  verily,  no  man  who  gazes  on  that  cross 
Shall  fail  to  meet  that  day  with  safety  in  distress.^ 

The  white  ground  of  the  shield  was  held  to  denote 
chastity,  the  red  cross,  martyrdom.  It  was  a  continua- 
tion of  the  legend  that  Sir  Galahad  found  the  shield  at 
Avelon  or  Glastonbury,  and  that  he  died  at  Sarras,  after 
commissioning  Sir  Percival  to  carry  his  heart  to  Arthur 
to  be  buried  at  Glastonbury,  by  the  side  of  Evelak  and 
Joseph.  The  Crusading  element  is  visible  throughout 
this  story  ;  for  Sarras  was  accounted  the  representative 
town  of  the  Saracens,  who  were  supposed  to  have 
received  Christianity  from  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and 
afterwards  to  have  become  renegades  to  the  faith.^ 

Merlin  the  Enchanter^  was  also  originally  by 
Walter  de  Map.  In  its  English  form  it  is  a  prose 
romance,  with  a  marked  religious  tone  running  through 
it.  It  begins  with  several  pages  about  the  fall  of  man, 
and  our  Saviour's  redeeming  love.  In  it  the  story  of 
the  Holy  Graal  is  recounted  by  Merlin  to  Uter  Pen- 
dragon.  It  tells  also  how  the  void  place  at  the  Round 
Table,  representing  the  vacant  apostleship,  should  be 
filled  again  by  one  who  was  shortly  to  come — that  is  to 
say,  by  King  Arthur. 

Sir  Lamtcelot,  in  its  English  form,  was  taken  early 
in  the  sixteenth  century  from  the  French  ;  but  the 
French,  in  all  probability,  from  the  Latin  of  Walter  de 
Map.  That  religious  feeling  enters  largely  into  this 
poem  may  be  shown  by  the  mere  fact  that  more  than 
800  lines  of  it  are  a  sort  of  homily  addressed  by 
Amytans,  '  the  Master,'  to  Arthur,  when  the  king  was 

^  Joseph  of  Aiimathca,  1.  445  :  '  Josephe  takes  hys  scheld,  and  schapes 
a-middes.' 

2  Skeat's  Preface  \o  Joseph  of  Ariviathea,  p.  xliv. 

3  E.E.T.S.  series,  No>.  10,  21,  -/). 


Old  English  Verse  5  5 

disturbed  by  the  threats  of  the  mighty  King  GaHol.     I 
quote  a  few  Hnes  : — 

He  made  thee  king,  He  made  thee  governour 
He  made  thee  this  and  set  in  high  honour. 

First,  the  beginning  is  of  sapience, 
To  dread  the  Lord  and  His  magnificence  ; 
And  what  thou  hast  perversely  Him  offended, 
While  thou  hast  power,  of  free  desire  amend  it.^ 

The  virtue  and  the  strength  of  victory, 
It  Cometh  not  of  man  ;  it  comes  only 
Of  Him  in  whom  all  power  is  :  if  He 
Be  haply  pleased  with  the  ways  of  men. 
So  only  have  they  force  against  their  foes.- 

Home,  therefore,  to  thy  land  thou  shalt  repair, 
And  govern  thee  as  that  I  shall  declare. 
Firstly,  thy  God  with  lowly  homage  serve, 
And  His  command  with  all  thy  might  observe  ; 
And  then  let  pass  the  ever-blessed  wand 
Of  law  with  mercy  jointly  through  thy  land.-^ 

The  Morte  d'Arthure  is  another  of  the  cycle  coming 
indirectly  through  the  French  from  Walter  de  Map. 
The  English  version  is  thought  by  Sir  F.  Madden  to 
have  been  written  by  the  Scotch  poet,  Huchowne.  Mr. 
Morris  thinks  it  was  written  south  of  the  Tweed,  in  the 
Northumbrian  dialect,  and  somewhat  altered  by  a  Mid- 
land transcriber.  The  copy  from  which  Mr.  Perry  has 
edited  the  text  was  written  by  Robert  Thornton,  Arch- 
deacon of  Bedford  in  1440.  It  is  written  in  alliterative 
verse,  with  two  accented  alliterative  syllables  in  the  first 
part  of  each  line,  and  one  in  the  second.  The  story  is 
one  of  bloodshed  and  warfare,  terrible  giants,  and  deeds 
of  exaggerated  prowess  ;  but  frequently  exhibits  much 
pathos,  and  a  lively  sense  of  the  beauties  of  nature, 
together  with  many  devout  reflections.  For  example, 
he  begins : — 

1  Sir  Launcelot  of  the  Lake,  1.  1341  ed.  by  W.  W.  Skeat  for  E.E.T.S. 
No.  6. 

2  Id.  1.  1475  :  'The  vertw  and  the  strenth  of  victory.' 

^  Id.  1.  1597  :  '  Wharfor  thou  shalt  in  to  thi  lond  home  fair. 


56  Religious  Thought  in 

Now   may  the  great  and  glorious  God,  through  His  own 
blessed  grace, 

Shield  us  from  shame-deeds  and  from  sinful  works, 

And  give  us  grace  to  guide  us  rightly  here. 

In  this  weak  wretched  world,  by  works  of  grace  ; 

That  we  may  come  to  His  court,  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 

When  souls  shall  part,  and  sunder  from  us  fly, 

To  be  and  bide,  resting  in  bliss  with  Him  ; 

And  work  me  wit  to  write  some  goodly  words. 

Not  vain  or  void,  but  voice  of  praise  to  Him, 

To  please  and  profit  people  who  will  hear.^ 

Sir  Gawaine  is  a  very  interesting  romance,  both  in 
subject  and  treatment,  and  also  as  a  valuable  example 
of  Midland  English  early  in  the  fourteenth  century. 
The  writer,  or  translator  of  it  from  Norman-French, 
has  been  thought  by  some  to  be  Huchowne ;  but,  as 
Morris  shows,  it  is  almost  certainly  by  the  same  West 
Midland  author  who  wrote  The  Pearl,  a  poem  to  be 
spoken  of  in  the  next  chapter.  No  knight  of  the  Round 
Table,  except  Arthur  himself,  is  more  honoured  in  the 
old  romance  than  Gawaine — '  of  alle  knyghtes  the  kynge 
that  undir  Christe  levede,'  a  knight  in  whom  were 
embodied  all  graces — of  courage  and  truth,  purity  and 
devotion,  wit  and  joyous  courtesy  : 

In  his  five  wits  found  faultless  was  the  knight, 
And  never  failed  he  in  his  fingers  five. 
And  fixed  his  faith  in  the  five  blessed  wounds 
Which  Christ  bore  on  the  cross,  as  the  Creed  tells.^ 

It  is  a  gay,  bright  story,  full  of  prodigy  and  mar- 
vellous  adventure,  with   many  details  borrowed   from 

'  Morte  Arthiire,  1.  9,  ed.  by  G.  G.  Perry  for  E.E.T.S.  No.  8: 
Now  grett  and  glorious  Godd  through  grace  of  hymselvene 

Schelde  us  fifro  schames-dede  and  synfulle  werkes. 

'  Sir  Gawayne  and  the  Green  JCni^hf,  1.  649,  ed.  by  R.  Morris  for 
E.E.T.S.  No.  4: 

Fyrst  he  wats  funden  fautles  in  his  fyue  wyttes 
And  efte  fayled  neuer  the  freke  in  his  fyue  fyngres, 
And  alle  his  afyaunce  vpon  folde  wats  in  the  fyue  woundes 
That  cryst  kast  on  the  croys,  as  the  crede  telles. 


Old  English  Verse  57 

Chrestien  de  Troyes'  Roman  de  Perceval ;  but  the 
moral  teaching  is  throughout  pure  and  high,  its  special 
teaching  being  chastity  against  strong  temptation,  while 
it  inculcates  more  incidentally  faith  and  bravery,  chival- 
rous bearing  and  truth.  Gawayne  bore  on  his  shield, 
in  pure  gold,  that  mystical  pentangle  of  Solomon  which 
was  held  to  be  symbolical  of  truth.  Like  most  of  the 
romances,  it  concludes  with  a  devout  aspiration  : 

Now  He  that  bore  the  crown  of  thorns, 
He  bring  us  to  His  bliss. -^ 

I  have  gone  as  far  as  the  limits  of  my  subject  will 
permit  in  speaking  of  the  religious  element  in  the  early 
romances.  In  doing  so,  I  have  partly  gone  beyond  the 
bounds  of  the  century  with  which  the  chapter  is  chiefly 
concerned.  But  it  seemed  better  to  avoid  any  need  of 
reverting  to  this  part  of  the  subject  afterwards.  It  will 
have  been  made  evident  that  the  religious  element  in 
many  of  the  romances  could  not  properly  have  been 
altogether  omitted  in  this  work.  Doubtless,  they  were 
intended  primarily  for  amusement,  and  many  of  them 
were  entirely  confined  to  this  purpose.  But  many  of 
them  took  an  important  and  notable  part  in  teaching 
and  fostering  the  noblest  elements  of  Christian  chivalry. 

^  Sir  Gawayne^  1.  2529  : 

Now  that  here  the  crone  of  thorne, 
He  bryng  ous  to  his  blysse. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE   FOURTEENTH   CENTURY 

Very  early  in  the  fourteenth  century,  probably  about 
1305,  The  Psalter^  which  had  been  translated  into  our 
vernacular  as  early  as  the  eighth  century,  was  rendered 
into  rhyme  and  metre  in  a  North-English  version,  the 
first  predecessor  of  innumerable  later  attempts  to  trans- 
late the  Psalms  of  David  into  English  verse.  I  will  give 
the  first  psalm  as  an  example,  and  will  so  far  depart 
from  the  plan  I  have  throughout  adopted,  as  to  give 
the  original  English.  I  will  put  it  into  more  generally 
intelligible  English  in  a  parallel  column,  and  add  a 
short  running  commentary  in  the  notes  : 


Seli  ^  bern  2  that  noght  is  gan  Blest  is  he  that  has  not  gone 

In  the  rede  ^  of  wicked  man  ;  In  the  rede  of  wicked  man  ; 

And   in   strete  of  sinfuUe  noght  he  In  street  of  sinful  has  not  stood, 

stode,  Nor  sat  in  seat  of  evil  flood. 
Ne  sat  in  setel  ^  of  storme  ^  ungode. 


Bot  in  lagh  of  Laverd  his  will  be  ai,         In  the  Lord's  law  his  will  is  aye  ; 
And  his  lagh  think  he  night  and  day.        Of  it  he  thinketh  night  and  day. 

3.  3- 

And  als  •>  his  live,  swa  sal  it  be  And  all  his  life,  so  shall  it  be 

Als  6  it  fares  bi  a  tre  E'en  as  it  fareth  by  a  tree 

That  stremes  of  watres  set  is  nere,  That  streams  of  waters  set  is  near, 

That  gives  his  fruit  in  time  of  yhere  ;  And  gives  his  fruit  in  time  of  year  ; 

1  Like  'selig'  in  modern  German,  'blest.' 

-  '  Bern,'  from  '  beorn,'  a  chief,  a  man,  is  probably  connected  with  '  ber.an,'  to  bear, 
and  so  with  '  bairn.' 

•*  In  the  Latin  '  in  consilio.' 

•1  '  A  settle,'  as  in  modern  North-English.     '  Setlan  '  =  to  take  seat  or  to  settle. 

5  The  Latin  is  '  in  cathedra  pestilentiae.'  Probably  pestilence  was  considered 
to  arise  largely  frorn  atmospheric  disturbances,  in  which  case  '  storm  '  and  '  pestilence  ' 
v/ould  be  nearly  allied  in  idea.  ij ' 

<>  'Als'  when  it  means  'as'  is  shortened  from  'all  se,'  'all  swa,'  =  all-as.     Compare 
the  modern  German  '  als.'     '  Als  '  is  also  a  dialectic  variety  for  '  all.' 
58 


Religioits  Thought  in  Old  English  Verse    59 

And  lef  of  him  to-dreve  ''  ne  sal  ;  And  leaf  of  him  scatter  ne'er  shall ; 

What  swa  he  does  sal  soundefulle  al.  Whatso  he  doth  is  sound-full  all. 

4.  4. 

Noght  swa  wicked  men,  noght  swa  ;  Not  so  the  wicked  men,  not  so  ; 

Bot  als  duste  that  wind  yerthe  8  tas  9  But  as  winds  toss  dust  to  and  fro  ; 
fra.io 

5.  S- 

And  tharfore  wikeii  in  dome  noght  rise  So  in  the  doom  they  shall  not  rise, 

Ne  sinfulle  in  rede  of  rightwise.  Nor  share  in  rede  of  righteous-wise. 


For  Laverd  of  rightwise  wate  the  wai,       The  Lord  of  good  men  wots  the  way  ; 
And  gatei2  of  wicked  for-worthi3)sal  ai.       But  bad  paths  are  forthcast  for  aye. 

Blisse  to  the  Fadre,  and  to  the  Sone,  BHss  to  the  Father,  and  the  Son, 

And  to  the  Hali  Gaste,  wit  with  am  And  Holy  Ghost,  dwelling  in  one, 

wone  ;  ^^  As  first  was,  is,  and  aye  shall  be  ; 

Als  first  was,  es,  and  ai  sal  be  ;  In  world  of  worlds  bliss  to  the  Three.i5 
In  werld  of  werldes  to  the  Thre. 

Some  interesting  religious  poems,  dating  from  the 
earlier  part  of  the  fourteenth  century,  have  been  pub- 
lished by  Dr.  Morris  for  the  Early  English  Text 
Society.  The  name  of  the  author  is  unknown.  '  But/ 
says  their  editor,  'they  are  evidently  the  work  of  a 
man  of  birth  and  education  ;  the  production  of  a  true 
poet,  and  of  one  who  had  acquired  a  perfect  mastery 
over  that  form  of  the  English  tongue  spoken  in  his  own 
immediate  locality.  .  .  .  They  contain  many  passages 
which,  as  Sir  F.  Madden  truly  remarks,  will  bear  com- 
parison with  any  similar  one  in  the  works  of  Douglas 
or  Spenser.'  They  are  written  in  West  Midland 
dialect,  and  apparently  by  the  same  author  who  wrote 
the  valuable  romance  of  Sir  Gawaifi.  They  are  all 
alliterative  ;  but  the  one  first  to  be  mentioned  is  also 
rhymed.     It  is  a  poem  of  about  1200  lines,  a  pathetic 

7  '  To-dreve  '  ;  '  to  '_  in  composition  meant  not  only  our  *  to,'  but  sometimes  conveyed 
the  idea  of  detorioration.     Therefore  '  to-drefian  '  was  to  drive  as  conquered. 

8  '  Yerthe.'     In  another  ms.  it" is  '  the  erthe  '=the  earth. 

^  '  Tas  '  from  '  taesan  '  from  which  comes  '  to  tease.'    It  means  to  pluck,  pull  up,  annoy. 

10  '  Fra'  is  shortened  from  '  fram  '='  from,'  'fro.' 

11  '  Wike  'is  'weak,'  and  so  '  mean,'  '  wicked.' 

12  '  Gate,'  in  the  sense  of  '  way,'  is  still  used  in  some  parts  of  England. 

13  From  '  weorthan '=' to  become,'  'shall  become,'  'put  forth.' 

1^  As  in  modern  German  '  wohnen '  =  to  dwell.  From  'wunian.'  Compare  our  'wonted.' 

^^  From   The   Anglo-Saxon  and  Early   English  Psalter,   edited  by  J. 
Stevenson  for  the  Surtees  Society,  1845. 


6o  Religious  Thought  in 

memorial  of  the  death  of  his  infant  child,  a  little  girl 
of  two  years  old.  He  describes  her  as  a  precious  pearl 
which  he  had  lost  ;  and  then  tells  of  his  vision  when  he 
had  sunk  in  grief  upon  her  grave  among  the  summer 
flowers.  In  my  quotation  from  it,  I  have  endeavoured 
to  keep  as  near  to  the  original  as  I  can  consistently 
with  preserving,  in  some  measure,  the  alliteration  as 
well  as  the  rhyme,  and  with  keeping  free  of  the  many 
words  which  would  now  be  perfectly  unintelligible  to 
an  ordinary  English  reader. 

Pearl  ^  that  might  please  a  prince's  eye, 

And  set  in  glittering  gold  so  clear, 
Not  out  of  Orient  Ind  was  aye 

Proved,  I  ween,  her  precious  peer. 


^  As  I  have  not  been  able  to  adhere  quite  as  literally  as  I  could  wish  to 
the  text,  I  subjoin  some  of  the  original  : 

Perle  plesaunte  to  prynces  paye  [pleasure] 

To  [very]  clanly  clos  in  golde  so  clere, 
Oute  of  oryent  I  hardyly  saye 

Ne  proued  1  neuer  her  precios  pere. 

Alias  !  I  leste  hyr  in  on  erbere  [arbour] 

Thurg  gresse  to  grounde  hit  fro  me  yot ; 
I  dewyne  [pine]  fordolked  [in  dole]  of  luf  daungere 

Of  that  pryvy  perle  withouten  spot. 
Sythen  in  that  spote  hit  fro  me  sprange, 

Ofte  haf  I  wayted  wyschande  that  wele, 
That  wont  watz  [was]  whyle  devoyde  [do  away]  my  wrange, 

And  heuen  [upraise]  my  happe  and  al  my  hele  [health]  ; 
That  doth  bot  thrych  [through]  my  hert  thrange  [pierce], 

My  breste  in  bale  bot  bolne  [swell]  and  bele  [boil], 
Get  [yet]  thogt  me  neuer  so  swete  a  sange 

As  stylle  stounde  [hour]  let  to  me  stele. 

I  felle  upon  that  floury  flagt 

Suche  odour  to  my  hernez  [brains]  schot  : 
I  slode  vpon  a  stepyng  slagte  [stroke] 

On  that  precios  perle  withouten  spot. 
Fro  spot  my  spyryt  ther  sprang  in  space, 

My  body  on  balke  [in  partition]  ther  bod  in  sweuen  [dream] 
My  goste  is  gone  in  godez  grace, 

In  aventure  ther  mervaylez  meuen  [move]. 

Early  English  Alliterative  Poems  of  Fourteenth   Centnry,   ed.    by  R. 
Morris  forE.E.T.E.,  No  i. 


Old  EnolisJi  Verse  6 1 


^ 


Alas,  I  lost  her  in  a  grot 

Through  grass  to  ground  she  from  me  fell,- 
That  precious  pearl  without  a  spot, 

And  pain  and  pine  my  heart  befell. 
Oft  wend  I  where  I  met  that  woe. 

And  longing  yearn  for  her  I  lost, — 
My  life  and  light  when  heart  was  low, 

Or  when  with  care  my  soul  was  crossed. 
But  when  the  thought  did  through  me  thrill, 

And  when  my  breast  did  boil  and  bleed. 
There  came  through  the  calm  air,  and  still, 

The  sweetest  song  that  ear  could  heed. 

Sweet  odours  o'er  my  senses  shot  ; 

I  fell  upon  the  flowers,  where  lay 
My  precious  pearl  without  a  spot. 

Wafted  in  welcome  sleep  away. 
My  spirit  sprang  from  me  in  space. 

My  body  bode  apart  in  dream  ; 
Gone  is  my  ghost,  by  heaven's  grace 

To  move  in  quest  where  marvels  teem. 

So,  through  sights  of  wonder  and  beauty,  he  came  in 
vision  to  a  beautiful  river,  Avhose  banks  were  of  beryl, 
and  its  stones  — 

Bright  glancing  in  the  glittering  deep, 

Gleam  as  through  glass  which  glows  with  light  ; 

As  shines  with  stars  o'er  men  asleep 
The  welkin  on  a  wintry  night. 

The  dear  delight  of  down  and  dale, 
Of  wandering  waters,  wood  and  plain. 

Built  in  me  bliss,  abated  bale, 

Foredid  my  dole,  destroyed  my  pain. 

As  he  passed  on,  a  joy  unspeakable  flooded  his  soul, 
and  he  thought  he  saw  Paradise  on  the  further  side  of 
the  stream.     Anon  he  beheld  a  crystal  cliff — 

And  at  its  foot  a  child  full  fair, 

(So  well  I  knew  that  sweetest  sight  !) 
A  maiden  mild  and  debonnair. 

In  gleaming  robe  of  glistening  white. 
Pure  as  pure  gold  beyond  compare, 

So  shone  her  sheen  on  yonder  shore, 
Long  as  I  looked  upon  her  there, 

Ever  I  knew  her  more  and  more. 


62  Religiotts  Thought  in 

He  was  amazed  and  faint,  and  dare  not  speak.  At 
last,  to  his  great  joy,  she  greeted  him  with  a  sweet  look. 
Then  he  spoke,  and  told  her  of  his  sorrow  for  his  lost  gem  : 

For  since  we  two  were  torn  in  twain, 
I  was  a  joyless  jeweller. 

Then  she  answered  that,  so  far  from  being  a  lost 
pearl,  she  was  in  a  garden  of  bliss,  where  was  neither 
wrong  nor  mourning  ;  and,  in  sooth. 

That  thou  didst  lose  was  but  a  rose 

Which  flowers  and  fades  as  nature  bids. 

It  was  only  in  this  better  land  that  she  had  become  in 
truth  as  a  pearl  of  price.  The  father  wonders  how  a 
little  child  who  could  neither  please  God  nor  pray  to 
Him  could  be  received  into  such  bliss.  She  answers 
by  telling  the  parable  of  the  vineyard.  She  had  not 
borne  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day,  but  neither  had 
she  sinned,  and  the  Lord  had  been  pleased  to  give 
to  innocence  no  less  than  He  gives  to  righteous- 
ness. God's  good  grace  is  both  free  and  great ;  and 
Christ  Himself  had  called  the  children  to  Him.  Then 
she  tells  of  the  love  and  glory  of  the  Lamb  of  God. 
She  shows  him  the  outside  of  the  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
and  as  the  moon  began  to  rise  he  became  aware  of  a 
mighty  procession  of  maidens  like  his  own  pearl, 
crowned  and  in  white  robes,  singing  in  praise  of  the 
Lamb,  who  went  before  them  ;  and  she  was  there  among 
them.  At  last  he  awakens,  and  the  poem  ends  with 
words  on  the  blessedness  of  being  a  good  Christian, 
with  God  Himself  for  Lord  and  friend  : 

Keep  us,  good  God,  Thy  servants  true, 
And  pearls  of  price  to  please  Thee  aye. 

The  next  poem — alliterative,  but  not  in  rhyme — is  a 
collection  of  stories  from  the  Bible  on  the  sore  punish- 
ment with  which  God  visits  the  sinner  for  all  sins  of 
impurity.     It  is  the  pure  in  heart  who  shall  see  God. 

Happy  the  atheling  whose  heart  is  clean. 

For  with  good  cheer  shall  he  look  on  the  Lord.^ 

^  Line  27  :  The  hathel  clene  of  his  hert  hapenez  ful  fayre, 

For  he  schal  loke  on  our  Lade  with  a  bone  chere. 


Old  English  Verse  6^^ 

First  come  the  story  of  the  marriage  feast,  and  of 
him  who  came  in  unclean  array ;  from  which  is  drawn 
the  lesson  : 

O  ware  thee  well  that  all  thy  weeds  be  clean, 
Honouring  His  holy  day  ;  else  thou  hast  harm. 
What  are  those  weeds  which  ye  may  wrap  ye  in, 
They  that  shall  show  you  shrouded  pure  and  sheen  ? 
Good  works  they  are  which  thou  in  life  has  wrought  ; 
See  thou  be  found  both  fresh  and  fair  in  life. 
God  loves  the  limbs  all  lapped  in  cleanly  wise  ; 
So  see  thy  Saviour  in  His  blissful  seat.^ 

Then  come  the  stories  of  the  fall  of  angels  and  of 
men  ;  the  story  of  the  flood,  of  the  destruction  of  Sodom 
and  Gomorrah,  of  the  taking  of  Jerusalem  by  Nebu- 
chadnezzar, of  the  captivity  of  the  Jews,  of  the  defiling 
of  the  holy  vessels  by  Belshazzar,  and  of  the  wrath 
which  fell  upon  him.  Of  this  pollution  of  the  sacred 
things  he  remarks : 

For  when  a  soul  is  sanctified  to  God, 
He  wholly  holds  and  counts  it  as  His  own  ; 
And  loth  is  He  to  lose  it  through  ill  lust, 
As  when  a  man  is  reft  and  robbed  by  wrong. 
Ware  thee  then  of  His  wrath  ;  His  wrath  is  hot, 
If  what  was  once  His  own  be  found  unclean  ; 
Yea,  be  it  but  a  basin  or  a  bowl, 
Yet  to  defile  it  God  doth  fast  forbid.^ 

The  third  poem,  with  its  moral  of  patience  under 
provocation,  is  the  story  of  Jonah.  In  most  Anglo- 
Saxon  and  Early  English  poems  an  episode  from  sea 
adventure  is  told  with  spirit.  So  it  is  here  in  the 
account  of  the  storm  which  befell  the  ship  where  Jonah 
was  on  board.     The  following  is  part  of  it : — 

Anon  from  north  and  east  the  noise  begins. 

When  blasts  from  both  blow  fierce  on  the  blue  main. 


^  Early  Alliterative  Poems ^  etc.,  165  : 

Bot  war  the  wel,  if  thou  wylt,  thy  wedes  ben  dene 
And  honest  for  the  haly  day,  lest  thou  harme  tache. 

2  Id.  1139: 

For  when  a  sawele  is  sagtled  and  sakred  to  drygtyn, 
He  holly  haldes  hit  his  and  have  hit  he  wolde. 


64  Religious  Thought  in 

Rough  rack  of  clouds  arose  with  thunder  roar  ; 
The  sea  sobbed  sorely,  marvel  for  to  see. 
On  the  wan  waters  wrestle  the  strong  winds, 
And  the  wild  waves  in  madness  welter  high, 
Then  bend  into  th'  abyss  where  fishes  breed. 

No  joy  could  cheer  the  ship  Jonah  was  in  ; 
For  round  it  reeled  amid  the  rude  turmoil  ; 
The  billows  burst  abaft  and  broke  the  gear, 
Then  hurled  upon  a  heap  the  helm  and  stern, 
And  many  a  rope  was  marred,  and  then  the  mast. 
On  the  sea  swung  the  sail  ;  athwart  there  swept 
Cold  waters  ;  and  a  call  and  cry  arose 
To  cut  the  cords  and  cast  out  all  the  gear. 
Then  many  a  lad  leapt  forth  to  lave  thereout 
And  scoop  the  scathful  tide,  fain  to  escape  ; 
For  though  men's  lot  look  hopeless,  life  is  sweet.  ^ 

I  may  also  quote  some  of  the  lines  in  which  is 
rendered  the  divine  remonstrance  at  Jonah's  fretful 
impatience  : — 

What  wonder  I  would  help  my  handiwork  ? 

Thou  waxest  wroth  for  cause  of  thy  woodbine. 

Which  caused  thee  no  kind  care  its  growth  to  keep, 

One  hour  it  waxed,  the  next  withered  away  ; 

And  thou  mislikest,  and  thy  life  would  lose. 

But  I,  in  mercy  on  the  men  I  made. 

Relent  to  redeless  souls  who  rue  their  sin. 

I  made  them  for  myself  to  be  mine  own  ; 

Then  kept  I  guard  o'er  them,  with  care  to  guide. 

If  I  make  trip  the  travel  of  that  time, 

And  throw  in  dust  yon  town  that  turns  from  sin, 

That  sorrow  sore  would  sink  into  my  soul 

Of  many  men  who  mourn  their  malice  there. 

And  some  lack  art  to  reason  right  and  wrong  ; 

And  little  bairns  there  be  that  ne'er  wrought  bale  ; 

And  many  poor  brute  beasts  be  in  the  burgh, 
Who  sin  no  sort  to  suffer  grief  of  soul  ; 
Shall  I  be  wrath  with  them,  when  wights  will  turn 
And  come  to  me  as  King,  and  keep  my  laws  ?  ^ 

*  Early  Alliterative  Poevis  :  Patience,  137  : 

Anon  out  of  the  north  est  the  noys  bigynes 

When  bothc  brethes  con  blowe  vpon  bio  watteres. 
-  Id.  496  : 

If  I  wolde  help  my  honde  work,  haf  thou  no  wonder 

Thou  art  waxen  so  wroth  for  thy  wodbynde. 


Old  English  Verse  65 

Robert  Mannyng,  of  the  Abbey  of  Brunne  (Bourne, 
near  Deeping,  Lincolnshire),  lived  in  the  reigns  of 
Edward  II.  and  Edward  III.  He  tells  us  that  he  began 
his  treatise  entitled  The  Handlyng  Synne  in  1303.  It 
is  a  very  free  paraphrase  or  adaptation,  with  frequent 
additions,  of  the  Manuel  de  Peches,  written  in  Norman- 
French  by  William  of  Waddington,  and  a  great  im- 
provement on  the  original.  It  is  written  in  that 
southern  dialect  which  was  gradually  becoming  the 
English  language,  in  a  lively  and  interesting  style  well 
fitted  to  carry  out  the  special  purpose  of  its  writer, 
which  was  to  catch  the  attention  of  men  who  were 
ready  anywhere  for  a  tale,  but  were  deaf  to  sedate  and 
solemn  preachers. 

For  many  be  of  such  mannere 

That  tales  and  rhymes  will  gladly  hear. 

In  games  and  feasts,  and  at  the  ale 

Love  men  to  hark  to  pleasant  tale, 

That  oft  may  fall  to  vylanie, 

To  deadly  sin  and  like  folly  ; — 

For  such  men  have  I  made  this  rhyme, 

That  they  may  better  spend  their  time, 

And  therein  somewhat  find  to  hear. 

As  so  to  leave  such  foul  mannere.^ 

The  plan  of  the  work  is  to  go  through  first  the  Com- 
mandments, then  the  seven  deadly  sins,  then  the 
Sacraments,  to  expand  each  subject  in  its  practical 
bearings,  and  to  illustrate  it  with  some  tale  or  legend. 
It  is  an  excellent  book  of  its  kind.  De  Brunne  is, 
indeed,  credulous  in  the  extreme,  and  the  more  amazing 
a  story  is,  the  better  it  satisfies  him.  But  the  whole 
work  is  thoroughly  infused  with  high  Christian  purpose, 
with  an  intense  feeling  of  the  evil  of  sin,  and  of  the 
severance  which  it  causes  between  man  and  God.  He 
loves  simple  folk,  hates  all  forms  of  oppression  and 
meanness,  and  speaks  out  openly  and  straightforwardly 
against  the  vices  he  sees  around  him.     Yet  his  verse  is 

^  Robert  of  Brunne's  Handlyng  Synne^  edited  by  F.  J.  Furnivall  for  the 
Roxburghe  Club  ;  Prologue,  44-54  :   '  For  many  ben  of  swyche  manere.' 

E 


66  Religious  Thotight  in 

never  tinged  with  bitterness  ;  and  we  feel  that  Hearne 
must  have  been  right  in  gathering  that  *  he  was  of  a 
cheerful  pleasant  humour,  addicted  to  virtue,  but  very 
blithe  and  merry  whenever  he  saw  a  proper  occasion.' 
As  for  the  name  of  his  book,  the  writer  of  it  may  speak 
for  himself: — 

For  sin  is  handled,  truth  I  say. 
In  words  and  doings  every  day  ; 
Sins  great  and  Httle  still  we  do  ; 
Flesh  and  the  fiend  entice  thereto. 

Another  handling  there  should  be, 
From  sin  by  shrift  to  make  thee  free 
Handle  thy  sin  in  fear  and  dread. 
Or  nought  but  pain  will  be  thy  meed  ; 
Handle  thy  sins,  and  well  them  weigh, 
How  they  foredo  each  godly  way. 
Handle  thy  sins  in  balance  even, 
Else  they  forebar  the  way  to  heaven. 
Handle  them  straightway  every  one, 
And  not  one  by  itself  alone. 
Handle  them,  so  to  rise  from  all, 
That  after  none  may  make  thee  fall.^ 

From  the  body  of  the  book  itself  I  take  a  first  extract 
from  the  teaching  on  the  First  Commandment : — 


Any  time,  or  for  need. 

Or  for  folly,  or  for  dread. 

Or  other  chance  that  well  thou  know'st- 

Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost  : 

For  this  is  e'en  the  greatest  sin 

That  any  man  can  fall  within — 

If  thou  hast  sinned  thus  greatly. 

With  sorry  heart  go  ask  mercy, 

For  God  is  full  of  great  pity, 

Ever  at  hand  to  give  to  thee. 

Uread  thou  not  ;  if  thou  wilt  crave. 

His  willing  mercy  shalt  thou  have. 

And  this  may  full  well  proved  be 

With  tale  of  good  authority. 

^  Ilandiyng  Synue,  rrologuc,  80-11O: 

We  handel  synne  cuery  day 
In  wurde  and  dedc  al  we  may. 


Old  English  Verse  67 

This  tale  is  written — all  and  some — 
In  the  book  VitcB  Pat  rum} 

Then  the  story  is  told  of  a  monk  who,  under  tempta- 
tion, gave  up  Christ  and  Christendom,  and  how  the 
Holy  Spirit  departed  from  him,  but,  after  his  long  and 
deep  contrition,  returned  again,  and  flew,  as  a  dove,  into 
his  mouth. 

The  following  is  on  the  supreme  obligation  of  the 
Sunday  above  all  other  holy  days  : 

Of  feasts  that  holy  Church  lays  down 

The  holy  Sunday  is  the  crown ; 

For  Sunday  hath  authority 

'Bove  all  that  were,  or  yet  shall  be. 

For  though  the  Pope,  by  his  powere, 

Change  all  the  feasts  throughout  the  year 

E'en  as  he  will,  at  his  own  will. 

Yet  Sunday  stands  unchanged  still. 

WTiat  holy  days  in  harvest  are, 

In  Yule  he  may  at  will  set  there, 

And  out  of  Yule  take  every  feast. 

Change  them,  and  set  in  the  harvest. 

But  yet  he  may  for  no  reasoun 

Put  vSunday  up  or  put  it  down  ; 

So  Sunday  above  all  the  rest 

Hallow  thou  must  and  honour  best.- 

Speaking  then  of  the  various  ways  in  which  the  holy 
day  is  dishonoured,  he  specially  warns  his  hearers 
against  spending  its  sacred  hours  at  the  idle  gossip  of 
'  the  ale :  '— 

The  tavern  is  the  deviPs  knife ; 
It  slayeth  thee,  or  soul  or  life ; 
Yea,  one  of  these  twill  surely  do 
If  commonly  thou  haunt  thereto. 
It  shorteneth  life,  too  much  drinking, 
And  slays  thy  soul  by  backbiting.^ 

I  next  give  extracts  from  two  of  the  stories,  premis- 
ing that,  if  the  reader  objects  to  the  marvels,  he  can  at 

^  Handlyng  Synne,  156-170  :   '  Gyf  thou  evere  God  forsoke. ' 
-  Id.  805-20  :   '  Of  alle  the  festys  that  yn  holy  chyrche  are.' 
^  Id.  1024-30  :   '  Taverne  ys  the  devilys  knyfe.' 


68  Religious  Thought  in 

least    praise    the    good    teaching  they  are    meant    to 
enforce : — 

FROM    '  THE   BACKBITING   MONK.' 

There  was  a  man  of  religion, 

Who  in  one  thing  was  a  felon, — 

In  backbiting,  as  we  have  heard ; 

— As  many  a  one  is  in  this  world — 

This  monk  was  wont  to  say  ill  saws 

Behind  the  back  of  his  fellaws. 

For  he  would  fain  be  held  the  best 

Of  all  his  house,  and  wiliest. 

A  sickness  took  this  monk ;  he  died, 

As  God  who  rules  us  did  provide ; 

And  then  he  went  to  pains  full  hard. 

As  will  be  showed  afterward. 

The  time  befell,  as  it  is  right, 

When  monks  must  rise  at  full  midnight. 

And  when  the  prayers  were  said  and  done. 

The  brethren  all  to  bed  had  gone ; 

But  one  was  left  behind  a  throwe  [nioment]. 

Who  the  dead  man  had  used  to  know. 

Now  when  he  came  from  the  chancel, 

His  head  he  bowed  a  littel. 

And  as  he  louted,  turned  pale, 

And  saw  one  sit  before  the  rail  ; 

Never  so  grisly,  foul  a  thing 

Saw  he  before  in  his  knowing. 

To  pass  over  details  of  what  had  befallen  the  unhappy 
ghost  in  regard  of  that  unruly  member,  his  tongue — 
the  monk  conjured  him  to  tell  why  he  suffered.  The 
figure  answered  : — 

'  I  was  a  monk,  thy  own  fellaw, 

Who  suffer  all  this  pain  and  shame  ; 

Hight  am  I ' — here  he  told  his  name — 

'  I  was  an  evil  backbiter. 

Wont  of  my  freres  ill  words  to  bear, 

And  wickedly  of  them  to  say 

All  that  I  ever  might  betray, 

And  unbelieving  was  I  ay 

Of  all  my  brethren  night  and  day. 

The  wicked  words  that  I  have  said 

All  woefully  are  on  me  laid. 

I  must  atone  for  them  full  dear 

With  fell  hard  pains  as  ye  see  here.' 


Old  English  Verse  69 

He  went,  nor  more  again  was  seen, 
Sharp  were  his  pains,  full  well  I  ween.^ 

FROM    'the  tale  OF  THE   MERCIFUL   KNIGHT.' 

Two  knights  were  in  mortal  feud.  The  son  of  the 
one,  whose  father  had  been  slain,  besieged  the  other  in 
his  castle  so  straitly,  that  for  twelve  months  he  never 
dared  to  come  out  of  it. 

Now  it  was  in  the  Lententide, 
When  men  should  leave  their  wrath  and  pride. 
Then  fell  it  on  a  Good  Friday, 
The  knight  that  in  the  castle  lay- 
Looked  out  and  saw  the  people  go 
To  church,  and  from  it,  to  and  fro  ; 
Barefoot  the  church  they  went  within 
To  ask  for  mercy  for  their  sin. 
'  Ah  I '  thought  the  knight,  '  long  time  has  gone, 
And  mass  at  church  have  I  heard  none ; 
Whate'er  God's  will  for  me  shall  werche  [work], 
I  will  arise,  and  go  to  church.' 

On  his  way  to  church,  his  foeman  met  him,  and  was 
about  to  slay  him  in  vengeance  for  his  father's  death. 
But  the  knight  asked  mercy  '  for  His  sake 

Who  suffered  death  on  the  rood-tree 

This  day,  to  save  both  me  and  thee. 

Forgiving  them  for  His  blood  spilt. 

E'en  so,  forgive  thou  me  this  guilt,' 

His  enemy  listened,  and  stayed  his  hand, 
And  said,  '  Since  thou  hast  me  besought 
For  Jesus'  love  that  dear  us  bought — 
Yea,  for  His  love  so  true  and  dear. 
For  this  I  grant  thee  my  peace  here.' 
This  said,  then  down  he  doth  alight, 
And  in  good  love  he  kissed  the  knight : 
'  Now  are  we  friends  that  erst  were  wroth ; 
vSo  go  we  now  to  the  church  both. 
In  love  and  perfect  charity, 
For  His  sake  that  bade  peace  to  be.' 

Amid  the  joy  of  all  the  company,  they  went  in  : 
Before  the  cross,  they  kneeled  down 
In  worship  of  the  Lord's  passion. 

^  Handlyng  Synne,  3556-3617  :   '  Ther  was  a  man  of  relygyun.' 


70  Religio2ts  Thought  in 

And  lo  !  a  marvel ;  for 

The  crucifix  that  there  was  laid 
His  arms  up  from  the  cross  uprai'd, 
And  caught  that  knight  his  arms  betwixt, 
And  kissed  him — did  that  crucifix. 

The  miracle  was  told  of  everywhere  : 

So  every  man  in  that  country 

Lived  all  the  more  in  charity, 

And  all  the  sooner  men  forgave 

What  wrath  to  others  they  might  have.^ 

I  add  a  few  lines  from  the  story  of  Pers  the  Usurer. 
He  had  been  hard  and  extortionate ;  but  his  heart  (the 
story  relates  how)  became  softened,  and  one  day  he 
gave  the  kirtle  he  was  wearing  to  a  poor  man  who 
came  to  him  naked.  The  man  went  and  sold  the  gar- 
ment, and  Pers  was  troubled.  But  he  slept,  and  in  a 
dream  he  thought  he  saw 

God  sitting  in  that  kirtle  clad, 
Which  the  poor  man  of  him  had  had ; 
Who  spake  unto  him  full  mildly : 
'  Why  weepest  thou  and  art  sorry  ? 
Lo !  Pers  (he  said),  this  is  thy  clothe  1 
For  that  he  sold  it  thou  was  wroth  : 
But  know  this  well,  if  that  ye  can, 
For  me  ye  gave  it  the  poor  man. 
In  what  ye  gave  as  charity. 
Every  whit  ye  gave  it  me.' " 

He  writes  of  the  slothful  and  indifferent,  the  rich 
sluggards  who  lie  abed  when  the  bell  is  calling  to 
church,  and  of  all  who  live  for  self-indulgence  and 
ease : — 

They  think  not  of  what  men  may  spell  [read] 

Of  the  Lord's  word  in  the  Gospel. 

'  Be  waking  ! '  thus  he  saith  to  all, 

'  What  time  your  Lord  who  comes  will  call ' 

For  then  may  hap  when  least  ye  ween 

He  will  call  you  :  look  ye  be  clean ; 

For  if  ye  sleep  at  His  calling, 

Ye  come  not  in  at  the  wedding. 


^  Handlyng  Synnc,  3800-3903  :   'And  hyt  was  yn  the  lentyn  tyde. 
-  Id.  5728-38  :  *  Syttyng  yn  hys  kyrtyl  clade.' 


Old  English  Verse  7 1 

Thus  the  Lord  calls  us  every  day, 

With  preachers  voice  all  that  He  may. 

But  ye  are  slow,  and  lie  asleep, 

When  in  your  ears  the  preachers  threpe  [chide]. ^ 

My  last  quotation  from  De  Brunne  shall  be  of  good 
Bishop  Grosseteste's  love  of  music  : — 

Next  his  chamber  '  by  his  study,' 

His  harpers  chamber  was  thereby, 

And  many  times  by  nights  and  days 

He  had  solace  of  notes  and  lays. 

One  asked  him  once  the  reason  why 

He  had  delight  in  minstrelsy. 

He  answered  him  in  this  mannere — 

Wherefore  he  held  the  harp  so  dear. 

'  The  harp,'  he  said,  '  by  thought  and  right 

Hath  power  to  quench  the  devil's  might. 

So  he  who  thinks  of  it  with  wit 

Unto  the  cross  will  liken  it. 

Another  point  comforteth  me, 

That  God  hath  sent  unto  a  tree 

Such  joy  to  list  to  with  the  ear 

How  much  more  joy  then  must  be  there, 

Where  God  doth  in  His  glor}-  dwell, 

Oft  doth  my  harp  unto  me  tell. 

Yea,  all  the  joy  and  all  the  bliss 

WTiere  God  Himself,  my  Maker,  is.'  ^ 

The  next  two  extracts  are  from  poems  which  were 
attributed  by  Warton  and  Ritson  to  Adam  Davy,  the 
marshal,  writer  of  some  Dreams  aboiit  King  Edward  the 
Second  (1307-27),  copied  in  the  same  •  manuscript. 
Mr.  Furnivall,  their  editor,  differs  from  this  opinion.  In 
any  case  they  belong  to  the  fourteenth  centur}^  One 
of  these  poems  is  A  Book  of  Moral  Precepts  taken 
from  Ecclesiasticus.     I  give  a  short  extract : — 

If  that  thou  lovest  wisdom,  let  the  right  have  thy  love  ; 
Be  not  thou  disobedient  to  them  that  are  above  ; 
Help  thou  the  needy  ;  set  thyself 'gainst  him  that  is  unmild  ; 
Be  merciful  to  widows,  and  to  the  fatherless  child  ; 


^  Handlyng  Synne,  4342  :  '  They  thoghte  nat  of  that  men  spelle. ' 
-  Id.  4748-67  :  *  Next  hys  chaumbre  besyde  hys  stody.' 


72  Religious  Thotight  in 

Keep  not  thy  wisdom  hidden  ;  never  withstand  the  right  ; 
Against  strong  men  and  ireful  contend  not  thou  nor  fight  ; 
Answer  the  poor  with  mildness  ;  heed  and  tarry  not 
To  turn  again  to  God,  if  thou  in  sin  be  brought.^ 

In  ^  Song  of  Joy  for  Christ's  Coining,  referring  to  the 
verse  *  Many  prophets  and  kings,'  etc.,  he  says  : — 

But  they  that  such  grace  had  not,  they  that  before  us  died. 
Often  in  prophecies  of  old,  after  our  Lord  they  cried, — 
After  our  Lord  they  cried  with  earnest  will  and  long  : 
No  'mendment  did  they  see,  but  troubles  great  and  strong. 
So  long  that  they  were  weary,  and  so  their  voice  grew  still, 
And  they  forbore  their  cry,  and  yielded  to  God's  will.^ 

William  de  Shoreham,  Vicar  of  Chart-Sutton  in  Kent, 
in  the  time  of  Edward  IL  (1307-27),  wrote  a  poem  on 
the  Sacraments,  the  Commandments,  the  deadly  sins, 
and  other  religious  and  moral  subjects.  The  following 
are  a  few  verses  from  it : — 

Methinks  the  rightful  dwelling-place 

In  heaven  it  is  to  men. 
But  we  are  heavy  ;  heaven  high  up — 

How  shall  we  thither  then  ? 
By  ladder  ? 
How  may  that  be  ?     How  climb  up  there, 
In  fear  the  foot  should  bladder  [blister]  ? 

Ay,  but  the  ladder 's  not  of  wood 

That  may  to  heaven  leste  [reach]  ; 
But  by  the  one  that  Jacob  saw. 

Lying  asleep  at  rest. 
Now  see  ye  this  : — 
That  ladder  it  is  charity  ; 
Its  rail  clean  living  is. 

Jesus  hath  climbed  there  before, 

To  teach  us  climb  thereby. 
Now  hie  thee,  man  !  and  follow  well. 

Lest  down  a-ground  ye  sigh, 
Beweyled  [beguiled] ; 

1  Poems  frotn  the  Laitd  MS.    622  (Bod.),   ed.    by  F.  J.   Fuinivall   for 
.E.T.S.  69.     A  Book  of  Precepts,  etc.  15  : 

Gif  thou  lovest  wisdom,  look  thou  rigth  loue  ; 

Unbuxum  ne  be  thou  nougth  to  them  that  ben  above. 
-  Id.  A  Story  of  Joy,  etc.  146: 

Ac  thai  that  suich  grace  ne  hadden,  that  to  fore  us  come, 

After  our  Lorde  thai  gradden  in  the  prophecie  ylome. 


Old  English  Verse  73 

For  if  thou  wilt  not  upward  thus 
Of  heaven  thou  hast  failed.^ 

Richard  Rolle,  the  Yorkshire  hermit,  retired  from  the 
world  in  the  middle  of  Edward  the  Third's  reign.  In 
the  seclusion  of  the  priory  at  Hampole,  four  miles  from 
Doncaster,  he  wrote  some  works  in  prose  and  verse 
which  were  for  some  time  very  popular.  He  died  in 
1369.  The  Pricke  of  Conscience,  written,  as  he  says, 
for  a  spur  to  make  the  conscience  tender,  and  to  drive 
it  to  dread  and  meekness,  is  a  long  poem  of  nearly 
10,000  lines.  It  is  not  a  book  from  which  much  can  be 
gathered  that  commends  itself  to  the  religious  feeling  of 
our  time.  It  is  true  to  its  name  as  '  a  goad,'  composed 
in  an  age  in  which  incentives  of  fear  were  applied  in  a 
manner  which  now  seems  wholly  repugnant  both  to  the 
conscience  and  to  the  understanding.  Yet  here  and 
there  are  some  lines  worth  quoting.  Thus,  he  says,  of 
the  hideousness  of  sin,  if  it  could  be  truly  realised  : — 

Sin  is  so  foul,  and  such  a  grisly  thing, 

That  if  a  man  might  truly  see  his  sin 

In  the  own  very  likeness  it  is  in, 

He  should  for  fear  more  quickly  from  it  flee 

Than  from  the  fellest  devil  he  might  see.^ 

The  following  extract  is  taken  from  a  passage  in 
which  he  puts  a  spiritual  construction  on  the  jewels  and 
gold  of  the  heavenly  city  : — 

Such  gold  of  heaven,  lustrous,  bright,  and  clean, 

Here  in  this  world  of  ours  was  never  seen. 

Nor  such  rich  jewels,  and  so  passing  price. 

As  in  blest  mansions  of  that  Paradise. 

Yet,  rightly  judged,  I  deem  these  stones  may  be 

Good  works,  and  that  the  gold  is  charity. 

Which  among  saints  in  heaven  shall  shine  as  clear 

In  those  whose  Avorks  of  love  did  shine  forth  here. 

^  Religious  Poems  of  William  de  Shoreham,  edited  by  T.  Wright,  Percy 
Society,  3  : 

Me  seithe  the  rigte  woneyynge 
Ine  hevene  hyt  is  to  manne. 

2  Rolle  de  Hampole's  Pricke  of  Conscience,  edited  by  Morris  for  the 
Philological  Society;  1.  2353:  'That  syn  es  swa  foule  and  swa  grisly 
thing.' 


74  Religious  Thought  in 

The  turrets  bright  of  heaven,  great  and  small, 

I  liken  unto  towers  of  clear  crystal  ; 

But  ne'er  did  crystal  in  this  world  below 

Shine  with  such  clearness,  with  such  splendour  glow  ; 

And,  to  the  spirit's  ken,  those  towers  may  be 

Such  meed  as  there  the  good  shall  feel  and  see/ 

In  1340,  about  the  time  when  Richard  RoUe 
wrote  the  work  just  referred  to,  another  book  with  very 
much  the  same  title  was  published  by  Dan  Michel  of 
Northgate,  in  the  Kentish  form  of  the  language.  It 
was  called  The  Ayenbite  of  Inwyt,  that  is  to  say,  *  The 
Again-biting  of  the  Inner-wit,'  or  'The  Remorse  of 
Conscience,'  and  was  the  translation  of  the  French  La 
Somnie  des  Vices  et  des  Verities,  written  in  1279  for 
Philip  11.  The  translation  is  written  in  prose,  and  is 
only  mentioned  here  because  of  its  preface  and  envoi 
which  Dan  Michel  wrote  in  rhyme  of  the  homeliest  sort. 
The  former  begins  : 

Lord  Jesus,  Almighty  King, 

That  mad'st  and  keepest  every  thing. 

Me  that  am  thy  own  making 

To  Thy  bliss  do  Thou  me  bring.- 

And  the  latter  thus  concludes : 

To  him  who  made  this  book  God  give  the  bread 

Of  heavenly  angels,  and  thereto  His  rede, 

And  take  to  Him  his  soul  when  he  is  dead.     Amen.^ 

William  Langland's  Vision  concerning  Piers  Plow- 
man, A.D.  1362,  is  in  many  respects  a  very  interesting 
one.  But  I  have  not  here  to  speak  of  it  in  its  historical, 
social,  and  ecclesiastical  aspects,  but  simply  as  a  reli- 
gious poem.  This  it  thoroughly  is.  It  is  a  vision 'of 
the  origin,  progress,  and  perfection  of  the  Christian  life,' 
and  in  many  places  may  remind  the  reader  of  nothing 

^  Religions  Poems  of  Williaiii  de  Shorehani,  9072-88  :   '  And  swa  bryght 
gold,  ne  swa  clene.' 

-  The  Ayenbite  of  Imvyt  (Morris),  K.K.T.S.  23  :  'Lhord  Jhesu,  almigty 
kyng.' 
^  Id.  : 

That  this  boc  made  Clod  him  yevc  that  bread 
Of  angles  of  hcvene. 


Old  English  Verse  75 

so  much  as  of  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress.  The  times 
were  thoroughly  out  of  joint  when  he  wrote.  There  was 
much  suffering,  discontent  and  trouble,  great  and  crying 
corruption  in  the  Church,  and  throughout  the  common- 
wealth vices  and  abuses  which  greatly  vexed  the  soul 
of  a  man  of  austere  uprightness,  whose  sympathies  were 
strong  and  deep,  who  loved  from  his  heart  truth  and 
freedom,  and  who  kept  his  eyes  steadily  fixed  on  the 
Gospel  model  of  life.  He  was  keenly  alive  not  only  to 
the  flagrant  offences  which  he  saw  committed  around 
him  against  Christian  morality,  but  also  to  the  depar- 
tures in  the  prevalent  Church  system  from  the  purity 
and  simplicity  of  the  Gospel.  He  was  no  follower  of 
Wycliffe ;  but  he  constantly  turned  his  eyes  from  the 
Church  around  him  to  contemplate  what  the  Universal 
Church  of  Christ  should  be.  And  thus,  often  with 
fervour  of  imagination,  sometimes  with  real  sublimity, 
always  with  vehement  earnestness,  not  unfrequently 
with  biting  humour,  he  vented  his  indignation  against 
wrong,  both  among  high  and  low,  and  pointed  up  to  a 
higher  ideal,  and  to  the  pure  'Mansion  of  Truth.'  He 
is  sorely  cumbered  by  the  trammels  of  a  tedious  and 
perplexed  allegory.  It  should  be  remembered,  however, 
as  one  of  its  modern  editors  truly  observes,  that  '  the 
necessity  of  avoiding  anything  of  a  personal  nature 
obliged  the  satirist  to  shelter  himself  in  allegory  and 
generalities.'^  The  following  is  from  a  description  of  the 
home  where  Truth  dwells  : — 

So  com'st  thou  to  a  court  clear  as  the  sun  ;  ^ 

The  moat  of  mercy  ;  in  the  midst  the  manor  ; 

The  walling  of  sound  wit,  lest  Avile  should  win  it. 

The  kernels  [battlements]  be  of  Christendom,  mankind  to  save. 

All  buttressed  by  belief,  whereby  is  safety. 


^  T.  A.  Whitaker,  in  his  Preface  to  the  fourth  edition. 

-  Langland's  metre  lends  itself  to  blank  verse  with  very  slight  altering  ; 
but  in  itself  it  is  the  old  English  alliterative  verse,  the  full  line  having  four 
accents,  and  its  first  half  two  alliterations,  the  latter  one  : 

So  shalt  thou  rome  to  a  roiirt  :  as  dear  as  the  sun. 
The  woat  is  of  wercy  :  in  the  widst  the  ///anor. 


76  Religious  Tkoitght  in 

The  lioLises  are  all  heled  [covered]  both  halles  and  chambers, 
The  bars  of  buxomness  [obedience],  in  one  bond  brethren. 
The  bridge  is  Bid  well  [pray  well],  so  the  better  speed. 
The  pillars  penance  are,  and  prayers  to  saints. 
The  hooks  are  almsdeeds,  which  the  gates  hang  on. 
Grace  hath  the  gate-ward, — a  good  man  for  sooth. 
His  man  hath  name  'Amend  you.' 

Ride  to  '  Amend  you  ; '  meekly  pray  his  Master 
To  open  and  undo  the  high  gates  of  heaven, 
That  Adam  erst  and  Eve  against  us  shut. 

And  if  Grace  grant  thee  in  this  wise  to  go, 
Thou  shalt  thyself  in  thy  own  heart  see  Truth, 
And  soothe  thy  soul,  and  save  thyself  from  pain. 
Also  charge  Charity  a  Church  to  make 
In  thy  whole  heart,  all  truth  therein  to  harbour. 

There  seven  sisters  be  that  serve  Truth  ever. 

Porters  at  posternes  that  to  th'  place  belong. 

One  '  Abstinence,'  and  one  '  Humility,' 

And  '  Charity,'  and  '  Chastity,'  are  maidens  chief ; 

'  Patience,'  and  '  Peace,'  are  there,  to  help  much  people  ; 

'  Largeness,'  [generosity]  a  lady  that  lets  in  full  many  ; 

Yea,  none  indeed  of  all  may  help  him  better. 

Hard  is  it,  by  my  head,  for  any  of  all 
To  get  in-coming  unless  Grace  abound.^ 

Then  Piers  Plowman  goes  on  to  bid  even  the  repro- 
bates not  to  despair  of  grace  : — 

'  By  Christ,'  a  cutpurse  quoth,  '  I  've  no  kin  there  I ' 
'  Nor  I,'  an  ape-ward  ^  saith,  'for  ought  I  know  !' 
'God  wot,'  a  waferer^  quoth,  'wist  I  this  truth, 
I  would  no  further  afoot,  for  no  friar's  preaching  ! ' 
'  Yes,'  quoth  Piers  Plowman,  '  pushing  all  to  good, 
Mercy  is  maid  here,  she  hath  might  o'er  all  : 
She  and  her  Son  are  sib  [kin]  to  sinful  men. 
And  in  their  help  hope  thou  no  other  thing 
Than  to  get  grace,  an  but  thou  go  betimes.'  "* 

^  Visio  IV.  de  Piers  PloiiJunan,  passus  viii.  232  : 

So  shalt  thow  come  to  a  court  as  cleer  as  the  soune  ; 
The  mot  ys  of  mercy,  in  myddes  the  manere. 

-  A  wandering  minstrel,  who  carried  a  monkey  with  him. 

^  A  seller  of  thin  cakes. 

*  Passus  viii.   283  :    *  By  Cryst,   quath   a  kitte-pors,   ich  haue  no  kyn 
there. ' 


Old  English  Verse  7  7 

I    will    quote    a    few   lines   only   of  what    is    said   of 

Charity  : — 

ChildHke  is  Charity,  as  saith  holy  Church, 
('  Nisi  efficiamini  sicut  parvuH,  et  caetera.'; 
Proud  of  a  penny,  as  of  a  pound  of  gold. 
And  all  as  glad  of  gown  of  poor  grey  russet 
As  of  a  coat  of  cammok,  or  clear  scarlet. 

Glad  with  the  glad,  as  gurles  [young  people]  when  all  are 

blithe, 
And  sorry  with  the  sorry  ;  e'en  so  children 
Laugh  where  men  laugh,  and  lower  where  men  lower. 

He  thinks  the  best  of  men  ;  he  believes  in  truth, 
and  in  doing  to  others  as  he  would  be  done  by.  There 
is  no  pride  in  him.  He  takes  sorrow  and  sickness  as 
ministrations  from  heaven.  He  is  kind  and  helpful,  free 
from  anxieties,  trusting  in  providence,  full  of  good 
deeds,  earnest  in  repentance  : 

Of  death  and  eke  of  dearth  dread  was  he  never  ; 
'  Fiat  voluntas  tua'  feasteth  him. 

Were  I  with  him,  never  would  I  away 
Albeit  I  beg  at  every  buttery  hatch  I 

By  clothing  nor  by  carping  knowst  thou  him. 

But  through  his  works  ye  wot  which  way  he  goeth. 

Merry  is  he  of  mouth,  sitting  at  meat, 

In  company  companionable,  as  Christ  was. 

'  Nolite  tristes  fieri,  sicut  hypocritae.' 

And  I  myself  have  seen  him,  sometimes  in  russet 

Or  grey,  sometimes  in  gries  (rich  fur)  and  gilt  array. 

Edmund  and  Edward  kings  were  each  and  saints, 

And  chose  them  Charity  and  Chastity. 

I  've  seen  him  sing  and  read,  as  clerk  also. 

And  ride  and  run  in  poorest  ragged  clothes. 

But  begging  as  a  beggar  ne'er  beheld  him. 

And  in  a  friar's  frock  he  was  found  once. 

To  kings'  courts  comes  he,  if  counsel  be  true  ; 
If  coveties  be  counsel,  he  comes  not.^ 

Of  Truth  : 

Truth  is  the  throne  where  sits  the  Trinity. 

^  Visio  W.  de  Dowel^  pass,  xviii.  310  :  'Of  deth  ne  of  derthe  drad  was 
he  neuere.' 


78  Religious  Thought  in 

Of  Love  : 

Love  is  most  sovereign  salve  for  soul  and  body, 
The  plant  of  peace,  of  all  virtues  most  precious. 

It  is  the  lock  of  love  that  unlooseth  grace, 

That  comforteth  all  creatures  cumbered  with  sin  ; 

Love  is  the  leech  of  life,  looser  of  pain.  ^ 

Sometimes  he  makes  Piers  Plowman  a  sort  of  personi- 
fication of  the  poor  on  earth,  to  whom  Christ  brought  a 
special  message  of  peace.  For  instance,  he  tells  how  he 
dreamt  of  the  hosannas  of  the  children,  and  how  then 
in  his  vision  he  saw  one  riding  on  an  ass,  like  unto  the 
Samaritan,  and  somewhat  to  Piers  Plowman  : — 

For  Love  hath  undertaken 
That  Jesus,  being  gentle,  joust  in  Piers'  arms, 
His  helm  and  his  habergeon. 

And  he  shall  joust  with  the  fiend  and  with  the  doom 
of  death,  and  Lucifer  shall  fall.     He  will 

Forbite  [charge]  him  down  and  bring  death  bale  for  ever, 
'  O  mors,  tua  ero  mors.' 

The  following  is  from  an  account  of  our  Lord's 
descent  into  hell : — 

'  What  lord  art  thou  ? '  quoth  Lucifer.    A  voice  aloud 
Quoth  thus,  '  The  Lord  of  might  and  men,  that  made 
All  things,  the  duke  of  this  dim  place  ;  undo 
Anon  the  gate,  that  Christ  the  King  come  in  ! ' 
And  with  that  breath  hell  brake,  all  Belial's  bars. 
For  any  wight  or  ward.     The  gates  oped  wide. 
Patriarchs  and  prophets,  people  in  darkness  sitting. 
Sing  with  Saint  John,  '  See  ye  the  Lamb  of  God  ! ' 
'  Lo  ! '  quoth  the  Lord,  behold  me,  life  and  soul 
For  sinful  souls.'  ^ 

The  poems  of  Lawrence  Minot  were  written,  as  ap- 
pears by  internal  evidence,  in  1352.  They  are  patriotic 
verses  written  to  celebrate  the  conquests  of  Edward  in. 

^  Visio  W.  de  Piers  PloiihfnoJi,  j^ass.  ii.  : 

Loue  is  the  plonte  of  pees,  and  most  preciouse  of  verlues. 
-  Id.  pass.  xxi.  362  : 

•  What  lord  art  thu  ? '  qualh  Lucifer  ;  a  voys  aloud  seyde. 


Old  English  Verse  79 

in  Scotland  and  France,  and  would  hardly  be  mentioned 
here,  were  it  not  for  the  interest  that  belongs  to  English 
poems  of  this  early  date.  I  quote  briefly  from  some 
lines  which  tell  how  Edward  the  king  came  to  Brabant 
and  took  homage  of  all  the  land  : — 

God,  that  shaped  both  sea  and  sand 
Save  Edward,  King  of  England,— 
Save  him,  both  body,  soul  and  life. 
And  grant  him  joy  withouten  strife. 

For  he  defendeth  fast  his  right. 

And  thereto  Jesu  grant  him  might, 

And  so  to  do  both  night  and  day 

That  it  may  be  to  Goddes  pay  (good  pleasure).^ 

In  Chaucer's  poems,  written  in  the  last  quarter  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  we  do  not  look  for  much  poetry  of 
a  distinctively  religious  sort.  But  wherever  his  song, 
in  its  bright  course,  does  touch  upon  any  such  topic,  we 
are  sure  to  find  it  pure  and  genuine.  Such  is  his  picture, 
in  the  Prologue  to  The  Canterbury  Tales,  of  the  poor 
Parson  '  rich  of  holy  thought  and  work.'  So  also  at  the 
end  of  his  Troilus  and  Cressida^  where  he  closes  his 
story  of  tender  love  by  imploring  his  younger  readers 
never  to  let  earthly  love  so  fill  their  minds  as  to  lose 
sight  of  that  supreme  example  of  divine  and  heavenly 
love : — 

O  young  and  freshe  folkes,  he  or  she. 
In  whom  that  love  upgroweth  with  your  age. 
Repair  ye  home  from  worldly  vanity. 
And  of  your  hearts  upcast  ye  the  visage 
To  the  great  God,  that  after  His  image 
Made  you,  and  think  ye  all  is  but  a  fair, 
This  world  that  passeth  soon,  as  flowers  fair. 

And  love  ye  Him,  the  which  that  right  for  love 
Upon  a  cross,  our  soules  for  to  bey  [buy], 
First  died  and  rose,  and  sits  in  heaven  above. 
For  He  will  falsen  no  man,  dare  I  say 
That  will  his  heart  all  wholly  on  Him  lay  ; 
And  since  He  best  to  love  is,  and  most  meek. 
What  needeth  feigned  loves  for  to  seek  ? 

^  L.  Minoi's  Poems,  ed.  by  Ritson,  1825  : 

God  that  schope  both  se  and  sand 
Save  Edward,  King  of  Ingland. 


8o  Religions  Thought  in 


And  to  the  soothfast  Christ,  that  died  on  rood 

With  all  my  heart  for  mercy  do  I  pray, 

And  to  the  Lord  right  thus  I  speak  and  say  : — 

'  Thou  One  and  Two  and  Three,  eterne  in  life, 
That  reignest  aye  in  Two  and  Three  and  One, 
Uncircumscribed,  and  all  must  circumscribe. 
From  visible  and  invisible  foe'n 
Defend  us  in  Thy  mercy  every  one.^ 

From  the  Roniaiint  of  the  Rose,  though  it  is  not 
quite  certain  that  it  is  by  Chaucer,  I  give  the  following 
extract : — 

With  muckle  pain  they  win  rich  esse, 

And  dread  them  holdeth  in  distress 

To  keepen  that  they  gather  fast  : 

With  sorrow  they  leave  it  at  last  : 

With  sorrow  they  both  die  and  li\e 

That  unto  riches  their  hearts  give. 

And  in  default  of  love  it  is  ; — 

As  showeth  it  full  well,  I  wis — 

For  if  these  greedy,  sooth  to  say, 

Both  loved  and  were  loved  again. 

And  good  love  reigned  over  all, 

Such  wickedness  should  ne'er  befall  ; 

But  he  should  give  that  most  good  had 

To  him  that  were  in  need  bestad. 

And  live  withouten  false  usure 

In  charity  full  clean  and  pure.- 

John  Gower,  Chaucer's  learned  friend,  published  his 
Confessio  Ainaniis  about  1393.  King  Richard  the 
Second  is  said  to  have  suggested  the  subject  of  it,  when 
one  day  he  met  him  accidentally  on  the  Thames.  It 
is  a  vast  collection  of  stories  taken  indifferently  from 
sacred  and  secular  history,  and  arranged  so  as  to  illus- 
trate the  evil  affections  which  stand  in  the  way  of  a  true 
and  pure  love.  He  meant  to  amuse,  but  he  meant  also 
to  edify.     In  his  own  words,  he 

'  Undertook 
In  English  for  to  make  a  book 
To  stand  between  earnest  and  game.' 

^  Chaucer,  Troilus  and  Creseide,  end  of  book  v.  :  '  O  yonge  fresshe 
folkes,  he  or  she.' 

-  Komaitnt  of  the  Rose  :     '  With  mochil  pain  thci  winne  richesse.' 


Old  English  Verse  8 1 

Thus  it  is  a  work  that  lies  near  the  borderland  of  re- 
ligious poetry,  and  must  not  be  entirely  passed  over  in 
this  review.  Gower  was  a  man  not  without  decided 
opinions  on  religious  and  ecclesiastical  matters,  and, 
though  he  detested  the  Lollards,  he  was  keenly  alive  to 
many  of  the  corruptions  prevalent  in  the  Church  in  his 
time.  He  did  not  spare  to  censure  these,  as  he  passes 
under  survey  the  various  forms  of  human  sin.  When 
he  touches  directly  upon  religion,  it  is  mainly  to  insist 
upon  good  works  resting  on  a  true  faith  : — 

And  this  belief  is  so  certain, — 

So  full  of  grace  and  of  virtue 

That  he  who  calleth  to  Jesu 

In  clean  life  furthered  with  good  deed, 

He  may  not  fail  of  heaven's  meed. 

First  did  Christ  work,  and  after  taught. 

So  that  His  deeds  the  word  araught  [explained] ; 

He  gave  examples  in  person. 

But  they  that  have  the  words  alone 

Are  like  the  tree  with  leaves  green. 

Upon  the  which  no  fruit  is  seen.^ 

Gower  was  strongly  impressed  with  the  unchristian 
nature  of  war,  and  frequently  reverts  to  it.  The  con- 
tinual warfare  he  saw  around  him  seemed  to  him 
wholly  inconsistent  with  the  rule  of  the  Gospel  and 
with  the  law  of  Christ : 

And  now  to  look  on  every  side, 

A  man  may  see  the  world  divide, 

And  war  become  so  general 

Among  the  Christians  over-all  [everywhere], 

That  every  man  now  seeketh  wreche  [vengeance]  ; 

And  yet  these  clerks  for  ever  preach 

And  say  that  good  deeds  may  not  be 

Which  stand  not  upon  charity. 

I  not  [know  not]  how  charity  should  stand 

Where  deadly  wars  are  taken  in  hand.^ 

And  so  again  : 

When  that  the  Son  of  God  was  bore. 
He  sent  His  angel  down  therefore  ; 

1  Gower,  Confessio  Amantis^  bk.  v.,  §  de  Fide:  'And  this  beleve 
is  so  certayne. ' 

-  Id.  Prologue  :   '  And  now  to  loke  on  every  side.' 

F 


82  Religious  Thought  in 

That  night  the  shepherds  heard  him  sing 
Peace  to  the  men  of  well-willing 
In  earth  among  us  here. 

And  eke  nature  war  hath  defended  [prohibited] 

And  in  her  law  hath  peace  commended, 

Which  is  the  chief  of  all  man's  wealth, 

And  of  man's  life,  and  of  man's  health. 

But  deadly  war  hath  his  covine  [hatching] 

Of  pestilence  and  of  famine. 

Of  poverty  and  of  all  woe 

Whereof  this  world  we  blamen  so.  r        •      ^.i. 

Till  God  Himself  thereof  do  boot,  |  fL^^f^iy^  ^^%^ 

For  everything  which  God  hath  wrought  '^  ^^^^^  tnereoi  j 

In  earth,  war  bringeth  it  to  nought.'^ 

The  collection  of  poems  on  the  Cross,  edited  by  Mr. 
Morris,  are  for  the  most  part  mere  legends.  But  I  may 
quote  the  following  from  The  Symbols  of  the  Passion, 
dating  from  the  latter  half  of  the  fourteenth  century  : 

Lord,  what  may  I  for  that  yield  Thee  ? 
Thou  askest  nought  but  love  of  me. 
Lord,  give  Thou  to  me  grace  and  might 
With  all  my  heart  to  love  Thee  right. 
In  life  and  death,  in  weal  and  woe 
Let  my  heart  never  turn  Thee  fro  [from]. 
Ere  it  so  be  for  thing  unwrest  [wicked]. 
Lord,  let  my  heart  for  Thy  love  brest  [burst].^ 

From  a  dialogue  between  Mary  and  the  Cross,  of 
about  the  same  date  : 

And  many  a  prophet  gan  make  moan 
And  said,  '  Lord,  send  thy  Lamb,  in  ruth, 

Out  of  the  wilderness'es  stone, 

And  save  me  from  the  lion's  tooth.'  ^ 

Some  slight  mention  is  due  to  some  verses  written 
at  the  end  of  the  fourteenth  century  entitled  2.n  A  B  C 

1  Confessio  Afuantis,  bk.  iii.,  §  Contra  motores  guerre:  'When 
Goddes  sonne.' 

2  The  Symbols  of  the  Cross  in  Legends  of  the  Holy  Rood,  etc.,  ed.  by 
R.  Morris  for  E.E.T.S.  46  : 

Lord,  what  may  i  for  that  gylde  the  ? 
Thou  desirdust  nogt  but  loue  of  me. 
^  Dispute  between  Mary  and  the  Cross  in  id,  : 

And  mony  a  prophete  gan  make  mon. 


I 


Old  English  Verse  83 

Poem  on  the  Passion  of  Christ.  Each  stanza  begins 
with  a  fresh  letter,  and  the  red  and  blue  colours  of  the 
capitals  may  serve,  it  is  said,  as  reminders  of  the  '  rede 
wondis  and  strokis  blue '  when  the  Lord  was  scourged. 
It  was  doubtless  specially  meant  for  the  instruction  of 
the  young.     The  K  stanza  begins  : 

IVING  CHRIST  was  clad  in  poor  weed. 
All  the  sin  of  human  deed 
He  hath  bought  full  dear. 

The  L  stanza  continues : 

L^OVE  made  Christ  from  heaven  to  comyn  ; 
Love  made  Him  with  man  to  wonyn  [dwell], 

As  clerks  in  gospel  read, 

Love  made  His  heart  to  bleed. 

With  His  blood  our  souls  to  feed 

To  bring  us  to  our  meed.^ 

•  Quia  amore  langueo  '  is  the  refrain  of  a  canticle  of 
Chris fs  Love  for  the  Soul  of  Man  dating  from  about  the 
end  of  the  fourteenth  century.  The  author  is  unknown. 
I  quote  some  of  the  verses.  The  scanning  is  frequently 
much  more  by  accent  than  by  number  of  syllables. 

In  a  valley  of  this  restless  mind 

I  sought  in  mountain  and  in  mead, 
Trusting  a  true  love  for  to  find. 
Upon  an  hill  then  took  I  heed  ; 
A  voice  I  heard — and  near  I  yede  [went] — 
In  great  dolour  complaining  tho  [then]  : 
See,  dear  soul,  how  my  sides  bleed. 
Quia  amore  langueo. 

Upon  this  hill  I  found  a  tree, 

Under  the  tree  a  man  sitting  ; 
From  head  to  foot  wounded  was  he, 
His  hearte  blood  I  saw  bleeding. 
A  seemly  man  to  be  a  King, 

A  gracious  face  to  look  unto  ; 
I  askdd  why  he  had  paining  : 
He  said,  '  Quia  amore  langueo.' 

^  hxiA  B  C  Poem,  E.E.TS.  15-19.  p.  245  :  *  Kyng  Crist  was  klad  in 
pour  wede.' 


84  Religious  Thought  in 

'  I  am  true  Love  that  false  was  never  ; 

Mine  own — man's  soul — I  loved  her  thus. 
Because  we  would  nowise  dessever, 
I  left  my  kingdom  glorious. 
I  purveyed  her  a  palace  full  precious  ; 
She  fled,  I  followed,  I  loved  her  so, 
That  I  suffered  this  pain  piteous 
Quia  amore  langueo. 

*  My  fair  love  and  my  spouse  bright  ! 

I  saved  her  from  beating,  and  she  hath  me  bet  ; 
I  clothed  her  in  grace  and  heavenly  light  ; 
This  bloody  shirt  she  hath  on  me  set  : 
For  longing  of  love  yet  could  I  not  let  [hinder  it]  ; 

Sweete  strokes  are  these  ;  lo  I 
I  have  loved  her  ever  as  I  her  het  [promised] 
Quia  amore  langueo. 

'  I  crowned  her  with  bliss  and  she  me  with  thorn  ; 

I  led  her  to  chamber  and  she  me  to  die  : 
I  brought  her  to  worship,  and  she  me  to  scorn  ; 
I  did  her  reverence  and  she  me  villany  : 
To  love  that  loveth  is  no  maistry  [over-mastering]. 

Her  hate  made  never  my  love  her  foe. 
Ask  me  then  no  questions  why — 
Quia  amore  langueo. 


'  I  sit  on  this  hill  for  to  see  far, 

I  look  into  the  valley  my  spouse  to  see  ; 
Now  runneth  she  away  ward,  now  cometh  she  narre  [near], 
Yet  out  of  my  sight  she  may  not  be. 
vSome  wait  their  prey  to  make  her  to  flee, 

I  run  to-fore  [forward]  and  fleme  [drive]  her  foe  : 
Return,  my  soul,  again  to  me. 
Quia  amore  langueo. 


'  If  thou  be  foul,  I  shall  make  thee  clean, 

If  thou  be  sick,  I  shall  thee  heal. 
If  thou  mourn  ought,  I  shall  thee  mene  [care  for] 
Spouse,  why  wilt  thou  not  with  me  deal  ? 
roundest  thou  ever  love  so  leal  ? 

What  will  thou,  soul,  that  I  shall  do  1 
I  may  not  unkindly  thee  appeal. 
Quia  amore  langueo. 


Old  English  Verse  85 

Long  and  love  thou  never  so  high, 
My  love  is  more  than  thine  may  be. 
Thou  gladdest,  thou  weepest,  I  sit  thee  by  : 
Yet  wouldst  thou  once,  love,  look  at  me  ! 
Should  I  always  feedd  thee 

With  children's  meat  ?  my  love,  not  so 
I  will  prove  thy  love  with  adversity, 
Quia  amore  langueo. 

'  Wax  not  weary,  mine  own  wife  ! 

What  meed  is  aye  to  live  in  comfort. 
In  tribulation  I  reign  more  rife 
Ofter  times  than  in  disport. 
In  weal  and  in  woe  I  am  aye  to  support ; 

My  own  wife,  go  not  me  fro  ! 
Thy  meed  is  marked,  when  thou  art  mort, 
Quia  amore  langueo.' 

The  following  lines  are  from  a  piece  entitled  How 
the  Goode  W if  than g J  it  hir  Daughter^  written,  says  the 
edition  of  1597,  nine  years  before  the  death  of  Chaucer, 
i.e.  in  1391.  Hazlitt  does  not  think  it  quite  so  early. 
Similar  religious  and  moral  admonitions  frequently 
recur  in  the  subsequent  age. 

Daughter,  if  thou  wilt  be  a  wife,  and  wisely  werche  [work]. 

Look  that  thou  love  well  God  and  holy  Church. 

Go  to  church  when  thou  may'st,  let  [stop]  for  no  rain  ; 

Better  thou  fare'st  each  day  thou  hast  seen  God  ; 

Well  thriveth  he  that  loveth  God,  dear  child. 

Blithely  give  thou  thy  tithes  and  offerings  both  : 
To  poor  men  at  the  door  be  not  thou  loth. 
But  give  them  blithely  of  thy  good,  be  not  too  hard  ; 
Seldom  is  that  house  poor,  where  God 's  toward  ; 
Treasure  he  hath  that  feeds  the  poor,  dear  child. 

The  while  thou  sit'st  in  church,  prayers  shalt  thou  daily  bid. 
Nor  jangling  shalt  thou  make  with  stranger  nor  with  sibbe. 

[neighbour  ;  cf.  gossip] 
And  laugh  thou  none  to  scorn,  nor  old  nor  young  ; 
But  be  thou  of  good  bearing  and  good  tongue  ; 
Worship  begins  in  thy  good  bearing,  my  dear  child. 

Sweet  of  speech  shalt  thou  be,  glad,  of  mild  mood  ; 

True,  word  and  deed  ;  in  life  and  in  soul,  good  ; 

Keep  thee  from  sin,  from  villainy  [low  conduct],  and  shame  ; 

Look  that  thou  bear  thee  so,  that  no  man  say  thee  blame. 

For  a  good  name  fore-winneth,  my  dear  child. 


86  Relioious  Thous^ht  in 


And  if  thy  neighbour's  wife  have  rich  attire, 

Make  thou  therefore  no  strife,  and  burn  thou  not  as  fire, 

But  thank  thou  God  for  all  that  good  that  He  hath  given, 

So  shalt  thou,  my  good  child,  in  great  ease  liv-en  ; 

Who  seldom  thinketh  [is  disquieted]  is  at  ease,  dear  child. 

Housewifely  shalt  thou  go  on  every  working-day  ; 
But  pride  and  rest  and  idleness  will  do  it  all  awa)'. 
And  when  the  holiday  shall  come,  wise  shalt  thou  be. 
That  holiday,  to  worship,  so  shall  God  love  thee. 
Be  more  for  worship  than  for  pride,  dear  child. 

Now  have  I  taught  thee,  daughter,  as  did  my  mother  me  ; 
Think  thereon  night  and  day,  forget  not  these  things  three — 
Have  measure,  lowliness,  and  forethought, as  I  thee  have  taught, 
So  whoso  weddeth  thee  in  nothing  is  by-caught. 
Better  were  child  unborn  than  one  untaught,  dear  child. 

Now  thrift  and   thedam  [prosperity]   mayst   thou   have,  my 

dear  sweet  bairn  ; 
Of  all  our  former  fathers,  that  e'er  were,  or  are-n, 
Of  prophets  and  of  patriarchs  that  ever  were  alive, 
A  blessing  may'st  thou  have,  and  well  may'st  e\er  thri\e, 
Well  is  the  child  that  well  may  thrive,  dear  child. ^ 

John  Barbour  was  Archdeacon  of  Aberdeen  in  1357, 
and  died  in  1395.  He  knew  England  well,  having  often 
travelled  in  this  country.  His  Bruce,  a  long  poem  in 
fourteen  books,  was  completed  in  1378.  It  is  wholly 
historical,  written  to  celebrate  the  deeds  of  the  patriot 
king.  But  there  was  throughout  it  a  tone  of  reverence  ; 
and  a  few  lines  may  be  quoted  here,  relating  a  well- 
known  incident  of  the  battle  of  Bannockburn  : — 

When  this  was  said,  that  now  said  I, 
The  men  of  Scotland  commonly 
Knelt  them  all  down,  to  God  to  pray. 
And  a  short  prayer  there  made  they 
To  God,  to  help  them  in  that  fight. 
And  when  the  English  king  had  sight 
Of  them  a-kneeling,  quick  said  he, 
'  They  kneel,  yon  folk,  to  ask  mercy.' 

^   Hazlitt's  Remains  of  the  Early  Popular  Poetry  of  England,  1864, 
vol.  ii.  190-2  : 

Doughter,  gif  thou  wilt  ben  a  wif,  and  wiseliche  werche, 
Loke  that  thou  loue  wclle  God  and  holy  Chcrche.' 


Old  English  Ve^^se  Z"] 

Sir  Ingrahame  said  :  '  Ye  say  sooth  now  ; 

Mercy  they  ask,  but  not  of  you  ; 

For  their  trespass  to  God  they  cry. 

A  thing  I  tell  you  sickerly  [for  certain], 

That  yonder  men  will  win  or  die. 

For  fear  of  death  they  will  not  fly.' 

^  Barbour's  Bruce ^  ed.  by  J.  Jamieson,  1720,  bk.  ix.  69-82  : 

Quhen  this  wes  said,  that  er  said  I, 
The  Scottis  men  comounaly 
Knelyt  all  downe,  to  God  to  pray. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE   FIFTEENTH   CENTURY 

English  sacred  poetry  in  the  fifteenth  century  is 
almost  always  in  the  minor  key,  plaintive  and  peni- 
tential. A  deep  feeling  of  religious  fear  on  the  one 
hand,  and  an  earnest  but  trembling  confidence  in  the 
greatness  of  Divine  love  on  the  other  hand,  are 
struggling,  as  it  were,  which  is  to  have  the  mastery.  It 
is  often  pathetic  and  beautiful  ;  but  on  the  whole  there 
is  a  shade  of  sadness  upon  it,  which  is  doubtless  in  some 
degree  borrowed  from  the  external  troubles  of  the 
period. 

The  poetry  of  this  century,  religious  as  well  as  secular, 
commences  with  the  composition  of  Dan  John  Lydgate, 
a  monk  of  Bury  St.  Edmunds.  He  lived  to  advanced 
years,  and  died  about  1446,  nearly  half  a  century  later 
than  his  friend  Chaucer.  He  is  best  known  by  his 
Story  of  Thebes.  But  he  was  a  prolific  writer,  and, 
in  addition  to  the  many  compositions  which  are  un- 
doubtedly his,  appears  by  internal  evidence  to  have 
been  the  author  of  various  anonymous  poems,  remain- 
ing to  us  from  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries. 
Others  followed  in  his  steps,  and  caught  his  tone  of 
thought.  I  quote  some  verses  from  his  Testament. 
It  was  v/ritten  in  his  old  age,  and  contains  far  more 
words  taken  from  the  French  than  most  of  his  earlier 
poems : — 

No  song  so  sweet  unto  the  audience  [hearing] 
As  Jesu  is,  that  name  full  of  pleasdnce  ; 

Against  all  foes  shield,  buckler,  and  defence, 
To  heavy  hearts  chief  comfort  in  substance, 


Old  English  Verse  89 

Of  ghostly  gladness  sovereign  suffisance, 
Chief  heavenward  guide  unto  the  blest  city, 

Gladdest  resort  of  spiritual  remembrance 
To  whom  all  things  created  bow  the  knee. 

The  prince  was  slain,  the  servant  went  at  large  ; 

And  to  redeem  his  subject  from  prisoun 
The  Lord  took  on  Him  for  to  bear  the  charge. 
To  quit  mankind  by  obligatioun. 
Sealed  with  five  wounds  He  payed  our  ransom 

Man  to  restore  to  Paradise  his  city. 
Is  not  man  bound, — I  ask  this  questioun — 
To  blessed  Jesus  for  to  bow  the  knee  ? 

Within  my  closet,  on  my  little  couch, 

O  blessed  Jesu,  and  by  my  bedside. 
That  me  no  foe,  nor  hurtful  fiend  may  touch. 

Ever  shall  Jesu's  name  with  me  abide  ! 

My  precious  lodestar,  and  my  sovereign  guide  ! 
In  this  world  here,  alike  on  land  and  sea, 

0  Jesu,  Jesu,  for  all  folk  provide 

Which  to  thy  name  devoutly  bow  the  knee. 

There  is  no  love  that  perfectly  is  grounded. 

But  it  in  Jesus  took  original  ; 
For  upon  Jesus  perfectness  is  founded, 
Our  tower,  our  fort  Against  power  infernal. 
Our  portcullis,  our  bulwark,  and  our  wall, 

Our  shield  and  buckler  'gainst  adversity. 
Our  heritage,  our  guerdon  eternal 

To  whom  all  things  that  are  shall  bow  the  knee. 

Do  mercy,  Jesus,  ere  that  we  hence  pace 

Out  of  this  perilous,  dreadful  pilgrimage. 
Beset  with  brigand  foes  in  every  place 

With  fierce  assault  to  hinder  our  passage  ! 

Among  the  rest,  I,  that  be  fallen  in  age, 
Feeble  and  week  with  old  infirmity, 

1  cry  to  Jesus  for  my  sin's  outrage, 

Right  with  whole  heart  thus  kneeling  on  my  knee. 

Let  not  be  lost  that  thou  hast  bought  so  dear. 

With  gold  nor  silver,  but  with  thy  precious  blood. 
Our  flesh  is  frail  and  short  abiding  here  ; 

Malicious  is  the  old  serpent,  fell  and  wood  [raging]  ; 
The  world  unstable,  now  in  ebb,  now  flood  ; 

All  things  I  see  in  mutability. 
Against  all  these  I  hold  this  cpunsel  good 
MerCy  to  ask  of  Jesus  on  my  knee. 


90  ReligioiLS  Thought  in 


Let  me  not  rest,  O  Lord,  nor  have  quiet, 

But  fill  my  soul  with  spiritual  travail, 
To  sing  and  say,  O  mercy,  Jesu  sweet  ; 
Thou  my  protection  art  in  the  battail. 
Set  Thou  aside  all  other  apparail  ; 

Let  me  in  Thee  feel  all  my  affiance. 
Treasure  of  treasures.  Thou  dost  most  avail. 
Grant  ere  I  die  shrift,  pardon,  repentance. 

I  feel  my  heart  broken  and  ruinous. 

Not  pure  for  Thee,  Jesu,  therein  to  rest  ; 
But  as  a  wright  comes  to  a  broken  house, 
Or  artificer  mends  a  riven  chest  ; 
So,  Jesu,  Thou  of  all  wise  men  the  best, 

Repair  my  thought  broke  with  misgovernance. 
Visit  my  soul,  unlock  my  steely  breast, 

Grant,  ere  I  die,  shrift,  pardon,  repentance.^ 

The  latter  part  of  the  poem  represents  the  encourag- 
ing answer  of  our  Saviour,  and  ends  with  the  following 
verse : — 

Tarry  no  longer  toward  thine  heritage  ; 

Haste  on  thy  way,  and  be  of  right  good  cheer  ; 
Go  each  day  onward  in  thy  pilgrimage  ; 

Think  that  thou  dost  abide  but  short  time  here. 
Thy  place  is  made  above  the  starry  sphere. 

No  earthly  palace  wrought  in  such  fair  wise. 
Come  on,  my  friend,  my  brother  most  enteer  [wholly]  ; 
For  thee  I  gave  my  blood  in  sacrifice.- 

In  William  Billyngs'  poem  on  the  Five  Woimds  of 
CJirist,  dating  about  1400-30,  occur  those  quaint  lines, 
which  may  be  familiar  to  the  reader,  upon  *  Earth  ' : — 

Earth  out  of  earth  is  wondrously  wrought  ; 

For  earth  hath  gotten  of  earth  a  noble  thing  of  nought  ; 

Earth  upon  earth  hath  set  all  his  thought. 

How  earth  upon  earth  may  be  high  brought. 

^  Dan  John  Lydgate's  Minor  Poems:  7estament,  ed.  by  J.  O.  Halliwell 
for  Percy  Society  : 

Ne  song  so  swete  unto  the  audience 
As  is  Jhesu,  now  so  ful  of  plesaunce. 
2  Id. 

Terye  no  lei^ger  toward  thyn  heritage 

Hast  on  thy  weye  and  be  of  rihte  good  chocre. 


Old  English  Verse  9 1 

Earth  upon  earth  yet  would  be  a  king  ; 
But  how  earth  shall  to  earth  thinketh  he  nothing  ; 
When  that  earth  biddeth  earth  his  rents  home  bring, 
Then  shall  earth  out  of  earth  have  a  piteous  parting. 

Earth  winneth  upon  earth  both  castles  and  towers  ; 
Then  saith  earth  to  earth,  '  This  is  all  ours.' 
But  when  earth  upon  earth  hath  builded  all  his  bowers, 
Then  shall  earth  to  earth  suffer  sharp  showers. 

Earth  buildeth  upon  earth,  as  mould  upon  mould  ; 

And  earth  goeth  upon  earth  glittering  like  gold, 

Like  as  earth  unto  earth  never  go  sholde  [should]  ; 

And  justly  then  shall  earth  go  to  earth  sooner  than  he  wolde. 

O  Thou  Lord,  that  madest  this  earth  for  this  earth  and 

sufferedst  pains  ill. 
Let  never  earth  from  this  earth  bear  mischief  and  spill  ; 
But  let  earth  on  this  earth  be  ever  working  Thy  will. 
So  that  earth  from  this  earth  may  climb  up  to  Thine  high 

hill.i 

Some  meditations  from  the  seven  Penitential  Psalms 
are  supposed  to  have  been  written  in  1414  by  Thomas 
Brampton,  a  Franciscan  monk,  professor  of  theology. 
He  introduces  them  with  a  preface  about  the  circum- 
stances which  led  him  to  write  these  verses  : — 

In  winter  time,  when  it  was  cold, 

I  rose  at  midnight  from  my  rest. 
And  prayed  to  Jesus  that  He  wold 

Be  help  to  me,  for  He  might  best ; 
And  in  my  heart  anon  I  kest  [cast] 

How  I  had  sinned,  and  what  degree  ; 
I  cried,  knocking  upon  my  breast, 

'  Ne  reminiscaris,  Domine  I '  ^ 

He  repeated  some  verses  from  his  book  of  prayers,  and 
then  went,  with  sorrowful  heart,  to  his  confessor,  who 
instructed  him  to  repeat  the  seven  penitential  psalms. 
The  subsequent  lines  consist  of  a  short  meditation  upon 

^  Corser's  Collectanea  Anglo- Poetica,  ii.  284;  and  E.E.T.S.  4  (P'urni- 
vall),  24  : 

Erth  owt  of  erth  is  wondyrly  wrought, 

For  erth  hath  goten  of  erth  a  nobul  thyng  of  noght. 

-   T.  Brampton's  Paraphrases,  ed.  by  W.  H.  Black  for  Percy  Society  : 
'  In  wynter  whan  the  wedir  was  cold.' 


92  Religious  Thought  in 

each  verse  in  these  psalms,  with  the  refrain  in  each  case, 

*  Ne  reminiscaris,  Domine.'     I  quote  four  of  them  : — 

On  Psalm  xxxii.  4  ^ — 

The  hand  of  vengeance,  more  and  more 

Is  hard  upon  me,  day  and  night  ; 
The  prick  of  conscience  grieveth  sore 

As  often  as  I  do  unright. 
But  mercy,  Lord,  as  thou  hast  hight  [promised] 

To  all  that  turn  them  unto  thee  ! 
I  know  no  succour  in  this  plight 

But  '  Ne  reminiscaris,  Domine  1' 
On  Psalm  xxxviii.  4  ^ — 

My  guilt  is  grown  above  my  head  ; 

All  wickedness  in  me  is  found  ; 
My  sins  be  heavy  as  heavy  lead. 

They  draw  me  down  unto  the  ground. 
The  fiend  with  craft  hath  me  so  bound, 

Both  hand  and  foot,  I  may  not  flee. 
Nothing  can  make  me  safe  and  sound 

But  '  Ne  reminiscaris,  Domine  ! ' 
From  Psalm  li.  10  ^ — 

My  heart  hath  been  defiled  with  sin  ; 

My  spirit  was  to  thee  untrue. 
O,  cleanse  me,  therefore,  Lord,  within  I 

A  rightful  spirit,  O,  renew, 
That  I  may  ever  sin  eschew, 

And  if  my  heart  shall  froward  be, 
Thy  mercy  still  will  I  pursue 

With  '  Ne  reminiscaris,  Domine.' 
From  Psalm  cxxx.  6  •* — 

Fully  I  trust  that  thou  wilt  keep 

My  soul  from  mischief  day  and  night  ; 
For  wheresoe'er  I  wake  or  sleep. 

With  me  is  still  an  angel  bright, 

1  Bj-aviptons  Paraphrases.  The  Latin  verse  is  :  '  Quoniam  die  nc  nocte 
gravata  est  super  me  nianus  tua  :  con\'ersus  sum  in  cerumna  mea,  dum 
configitur  spina.' 

The  hand  of  vengeaunce,  more  and  more. 
^  '  Quoniam  iniquitates  mecc  supergressK   sunt  caput  meum  :  et  sicut 
onus  grave  gravata.'  sunt  super  me.' 

My  gylt  is  growyn  over  myn  heed. 
"^  '  Cor  mundum  crea  in  me,  Deus  :  et  spiritum  rectum  innova  in  visceri- 
bus  meis.' 

Myn  hcrte  hath  be  dyffoylecl  with  synne. 

•  ■*  '  A  custodia  matutina  usque  ad  noctem  :  speret  Israel  in  Domino.' 

T  truste  fully  Thou  wylt  me  ke]-)e. 


Old  English  Verse  93 

Though  He  appear  not  to  my  sight 

Full  tenderly  he  keepeth  me  ; 
He  stirs  my  heart  with  all  His  might 

To  '  Ne  reminiscaris,  Domine  ! '   ' 

John  Audelay,  or  Avvdlay,  was  a  devout  monk  who 
lived  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century  in  the 
monastery  of  Haghmon,  in  Shropshire,  the  ruins  of 
which  are  still  existing.  In  a  short  note  inserted  above 
the  colophon  of  the  manuscript,  we  are  told  that  he  was 
living  in  that  religious  house  in  the  year  1426,  and  that 
he  was  blind  and  deaf.  He  tells  in  his  poems  that  he 
had  lived  sinfully  in  earlier  life.  He  detested  the 
opinions  of  Wickliffe,  and  thought  them  perilous  in 
the  extreme  ;  but  he  was  very  earnestly  desirous  of 
a  great  reformation  in  religious  life  and  discipline. 
This  is  all  that  is  known  of  him.  His  writings,  with 
the  exception  of  some  lines  on  Henry  VI.,  are  all  of 
a  religious  character.     He  says  of  his  book  : 

As  I  lay  sick  in  my  langure, 

In  an  abbey  here  by  west, 
This  book  I  made  with  great  dolour, 

When  I  might  not  sleep  nor  rest. 
Oft  with  my  prayers  my  soul  I  blest, 

And  said  aloud  to  heaven's  King  : 
'  I  know,  O  Lord,  it  is  the  best 

Meekly  to  take  Thy  visiting  ; 
Else  well  I  wot  that  I  were  lorne  [lost]. 
High  above  all  lords  be  He  blest, 
All  that  Thou  dost  is  for  the  best  ; 
By  fault  of  thee  was  no  man  lost 

That  is  here  of  woman  born.- 

He  assures  his  readers  that  what  he  wrote  was  not  his 
own,  for  his  own  speech  were  but  folly  ;  it  was  put 
into  his  heart  by  the  Holy  Spirit.  Then  he  concludes 
his  preface  with  the  words : 


^  The  Seven  Penitential  Psalms.  Supposed  to  have  been  written  by 
Thomas  Brampton  in  the  year  1414,  ed.  by  W.  H.  Black  for  the  Percy 
Society,  1S41. 

-  Poems  of  John  Audelay,  ed.  by  J.  O.  Halliwell  for  the  Percy  Society  : 
As  I  lay  seke  in  my  langure, 
In  an  abbay  here  be  west. 


94  Religious  Thought  in 

O  look  ye,  sirs,  I  ask  and  pray, 

Since  this  I  made  with  good  intent, 
Revering  God  Omnipotent, 
Pray  for  me,  ye  that  be  present  ; 

My  name  is  John  the  bHnd  Awdlay. 

In  his  principal  work  he  discusses  in  verse  a  number 
of  rehgious  and  moral  subjects,  such  as  the  various  sins, 
the  Commandments,  works  of  mercy,  the  five  senses, 
faith,  hope,  and  charity,  the  baptismal  covenant,  true 
wisdom,  obedience  as  the  test  of  love.  Then,  in  the 
second  part,  he  takes  one  after  another  some  Latin 
text  or  moral  proverb,  and  draws  some  lesson  from  it 
adapted  to  his  times,  in  very  simple  but  not  unforcible 
verses.  He  is  very  much  in  earnest,  ever  kindly  and 
charitable,  but  somewhat  despondent  about  the  evils 
around  him.  In  dwelling  upon  one  of  his  principal 
topics — the  duties  of  good  monks  and  good  priests — he 
laments  that  these  are  not  they  who  win  the  favour  of 
the  people.  A  priest  who  is  spiritual  and  sedulous  in 
his  devotion  is  called  among  men  a  hypocrite,  a  nought, 
and  a  niggard  : 

A  holy  priest  men  set  not  by  ; 
They  keep  not  of  their  company  ; 
To  them  men  be  unkind. 

The  popular  favour  is  given  to  the  '  mere  (merry)  mon  ' 
and  'jolye  araid,'  the  man  who  can  harp  and  sing — 

Thus  is  the  wicked  world  pleased  with  vanity, 

And  wittingly  men  anger  God  unwisely  evermore. 
God  of  His  grace  grant  them  that  be  guilty, 

That  here  in  life  their  deeds  they  mend  therefore  ; 
And  never  let  them  for  their  lust,  Lord,  be  forelore  [lost], 

But  send  them  sorrow  in  their  heart  their  sins  to  slake, 
And  so  into  Thy  court  and  kingdom  them  restore  ; 

And  us,  O  Trinity,  from  all  temptation  take, 
That  we  thy  hests  fulfil.^ 

Especially  he  entreats  his  *  blessid  broder  Salomon  '  to 
'  spare  not  to  say  the  sooth '  and  *  move  the  matter 

^  Poems  of  John  Audelay^  l6  :   '  Thus  this  wyckyd  world  is  plesid  with 
vanile. 


Old  English  Verse  95 

masterfully  to  priest  and  to  frere/  without  fear  or 
flattery  : 

Who  spareth  for  to  speak,  he  spareth  for  to  speed  ; 

And  he  that  speaks  and  speedeth  not,  spells  out  but  wind  ; 

Better  to  speak  and  speed,  than  hold  it  in  the  mind.^ 

He  finishes  these  admonitions  by  saying  that  he  doubts 
not  he  shall  have  hard  words  for  saying  the  sooth 
without  fair  words  and  flattery  : 

I  will  not  preach  the  people  for  to  pay  [please], 
Nor  will  I,  by  my  knowledge,  wrath  my  God, 
As  God  have  mercy  on  me,  John  Audlay, 
At  my  most  need. 
I  reck  not  who  it  hear. 
Be  it  priest,  or  be  it  frere  ; 
For  men  of  fools  may  lere 
If  they  take  heed.^ 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  fervour  in  some  of  his  devo- 
tional poems,  as  in  this  : 

O  Jesu,  grant  me  grace  to  thirst 

For  springs  of  life  that  aye  shall  last — 

The  well  ever  flowing, — 
With  all  the  longing  of  my  heart 
'  To  leave  my  sin  with  tears  that  smart, 

Here,  Lord,  in  my  living. 

0  Jesu,  Thou  saidst  specially, 
'  In  manus  tuas,  Domine, 

Commendo  spiritum  meum.' 
Out  of  this  world  when  I  shall  wend. 
My  soul  to  Thee  I  recommend  ;  , 

Father,  to  Thee  I  come  ! 

And  make  me  worthy,  Father  dear. 
That  Thy  sweet  calling  I  may  hear, 

In  th'  hour  of  my  parting  : 
'  Come  unto  me,  chosen  and  blest 
And  have  the  bliss  that  aye  shall  last 

For  worlds  without  ending.'  ^ 

^  Poems  of  John  Audelay,  28  :  *  Whosoever  sparys  fore  to  speke,  sparys 
for  to  spede. ' 
2  Id.  51  : 

.     .     .     wyl  preche  the  pepul  apert  hem  tor  to  pay. 

1  nel  not  wrath  my  God  at  my  wetyng. 
^  Id.  64:     *  O  Jhesu,  graunt  me  grace  to  thorst.' 


96  Religious  Thotcght  in 

The  following  are  some  pleasing  lines  from  a  poem 
on  The  Service  of  the  Church :  — 

When  in  the  church  ye  kneel  adown, 
With  good  heart  and  devotioun, 

Hold  ye  your  hand  up  then  ; 
And  for  yourselves  ye  first  shall  pray, 
Father  and  mother  next,  I  say, 

And  then  for  all  thy  kin  ; 
And  for  thy  friend,  and  for  thy  foe. 
For  those  that  did  thee  good  also. 

Many  as  thou  canst  myn  [mind], 
And  for  the  priest  that  singeth  mass, 
That  God  forgive  him  his  trespass, 

And  for  all  that  be  therein. 
If  that  the  priest  who  mass  doth  sing 
Shall  not  be  after  thy  liking. 

Let  not  this  hinder  aught  ; 
For  thee  his  mass  is  good  to  hear 
As  any  monk's,  or  any  frere  ; 

Take  thou  this  in  thy  thought. 
Yea,  and  although  his  prayer  and  boon 
Should  not  be  hearkened  half  so  soon 

As  though  he  well  had  wrought ; 
Yet  put  away  from  you  despair  ; 
The  Sacrament  none  may  impair, 

If  that  wise  men  say  ought.^ 

Some  touching  verses  remain  to  us  from  the  fifteenth 
century  expressive  of  the  Saviour's  pleading  against 
the  sin  and  ingratitude  of  men.  I  quote  a  part  of  one 
of  the  earliest  and  best  of  them.  It  is  entitled  The 
Complai?it  of  Christy  and  dates  from  about  1430  : 

0  man,  I  love  thee,  whom  lov'st  thou .'' 

I  am  thy  friend  ;  why  wilt  thou  feyne  [hate]  ? 

1  forgave  thee,  and  thou  me  slough  [slew]  ; 

0  who  hath  rent  oar  love  in  twain  ? 
Turn  to  Me  !  O  bethink  thee,  how, 

Thou  hast  gone  amiss  ;  come  home  again, 
And  thou  shalt  be  as  welcome  now 
As  he  that  sin  did  never  stain. 
Think  what  I  said  to  Mawdelaine, 
And  what  to  Thomas,  he  of  Ind. 

1  grant  thee  bliss  ;  why  lov'st  thou  pain  ? 

Why  art  thou  to  thy  friend  unkind  ? 

^  y.  Aicdelay's  Foems^  72  :   '  Then  in  the  cherche  ye  knele  adowne.' 


Old  English  Verse  97 

For  of  a  friend  the  foremost  prief  [proof] 

Is  love,  and  dread,  and  nought-displease  ; 
Never  was  thing  to  me  so  lief  [dear] 

As  man,  whom  nothing  can  appease. 
For  thee  I  suffered  great  reprief  [reproof], 

Of  heaven's  bliss  thy  soul  to  seize  [get  possession  of]  : 
I  was  y-hanged  as  a  thief : 

Thou  didst  the  deed,  I  had  th'  unease  ; 

Thou  canst  me  never  thank  nor  please, 
Nor  do  good  deed,  nor  have  me  in  mind. 

I  am  thy  leech  in  thy  disease  : 

\Vhv  art  thou  to  thv  friend  unkind  ? 


Ah,  I  have  bought  thy  love  full  dear  ; 

Unkind  !  why  goest  thou  from  mine  ? 
I  gave  thee  heart  and  blood  in  fere  [alike]  ; 

Unkind  I  O  why  not  give  me  thine  ? 
Thou  art  an  unkind  homagere, 

For  with  my  foe  thou  mak'st  thy  fyn  [peace]  ; 
Thou  servest  me  with  feeble  cheer, 

To  him  thy  heart  will  all  incline  ; 

And  I  am  Lord  of  bliss  and  pyne  [pain], 
And  ever>'thing  may  loose  and  bind  ; 

Against  thee  I  my  gates  will  tyne  [bar] 
WTiile  thou  art  to  thy  friend  unkind  I 

O  man,  bethink  thee  what  thou  art, 

WTience  come,  and  whether  thou  art  boun  [bound], 
WTiole  thou  mayst  be  to-day  and  qwart  [in  ease]. 

To-morrow  I  may  put  thee  down. 
Let  meekness  melt  into  thine  heart, 

And  think  with  grief  on  my  passioun. 
Of  my  wide  wounds,  both  deep  and  smerte  [painful], 

The  cross,  the  nails,  the  spear,  the  cro\\Ti. 

Let  dread  and  good  discretioun 
Thy  will  towards  me  wholly  bind  ; 

Thou  hast  good  wit,  thou  hast  reasoun, 
And  if  thou  wilt,  thou  ma>''"st  be  kind. 

O  Lord  I  'gainst  Thee  we  will  not  plete  [plead], 

For  as  Thou  wilt  it  is  and  was. 
We  have  deser\ed  Thy  anger  hete  [hot], 

And  now  we  yield  us  to  Thy  grace. 
Yea,  we  will  bow,  and  Thou  shalt  beat 

And  chasten  us  for  our  trespd.ss, 
And  let  mercy  for  us  entreat 

That  never  fiend  our  souls  may  chase  I 
G 


gS  Religious  Thought  in 

Ah,  blessed  Lady,  fair  of  face. 

Help  us,  for  far  we  be  behind, 
And  well  may  cry  with  tears,  '  Alas, 

That  we  were  to  our  Friend  unkind  !'     Amen.^ 

From  another  collection  of  fifteenth  century  poems 
I  quote  the  following,  entitled  RicJiard  de  Castro's 
Prayer  to  Jesus  {c.  1430)  : — 

Jesu,  Lord,  that  madest  me. 

And  with  Thy  blessed  blood  hast  bought, 

Forgive  that  I  have  grieved  Thee 

With  words,  with  will,  and  eke  with  thought. 

Jesu,  in  whom  is  all  my  trust, 

Thou  that  didst  die  on  the  rood  tree. 

Withdraw  my  heart  from  fleshly  lust. 
And  from  all  worldly  vanity. 

Jesu,  for  Thy  woundes  smart. 

On  feet  and  on  Thy  handes  two. 
Make  me  meek  and  low  of  heart. 

And  Thee  to  love  as  I  should  do. 

Jesu,  for  Thy  bitter  wound. 

That  pierced  e'en  to  Thy  heart's  root, 

For  sin  that  hath  my  heart  y-bound. 
Thy  blessed  blood  must  be  my  boot. 

And  Jesu  Christ,  to  Thee  I  call. 

Thou  that  art  God  and  full  of  might, 
O  keep  me  clean  that  I  ne'er  fall 

In  deadly  sin  by  day  nor  night. 

Jesu,  for  them  I  Thee  beseech 

That  anger  Thee  in  any  wise  ; 
Withhold  from  them  Thy  hand  of  wreak. 

And  let  them  live  in  Thy  service. 

Jesu,  most  comfort  for  to  see. 

Of  all  Thy  saintes  every  one, 
O  comfort  them  that  careworn  be 

And  help  them  that  be  woe-begone. 

Jesu,  O  keep  them  that  be  good. 

And  them  amend  that  have  grieved  Thee, 

And  send  us  fruits  of  earthly  food 
As  each  man  needs  in  his  degree. 

^  Hymns  Political  and  Religious^  E.E.T.S.  15  :  'This  is  Goddis  own 
complaynt.' 


Old  English  Verse  99 

Jesu,  Thou  Lord  that  hatest  lies, 

Almighty  God  in  Trinity, 
Stay  Thou  these  wars,  and  send  us  peace, 

With  lasting  love  and  charity. 

Jesu,  that  art  the  Corner  Stone 

Of  all  the  holy  Church  on  earth. 
Bring  Thou  Thy  fold  and  flock  in  one, 

And  call  them  rightly  with  one  hirde  (shepherd).^ 

The  following  two  stanzas  are  from  a  poem  of  about 
the  same  date,  entitled  The  Love  of  Jesus  : — 

Love  is  a  thought  with  great  desire, 

And  also  of  a  fair  loving  ; 
I  liken  love  unto  a  fire 

That  slacken  may  for  ne'er  a  thing. 
Love  cleanseth  us  of  all  our  sin. 

Love  unto  us  our  bliss  shall  bring  ; 
Love  the  King's  heart  to  us  will  win  ; 

Love  can  of  joy  for  ever  sing. 

A  longing  in  my  heart  is  lent 

For  love,  such  as  I  cannot  let  [restrain]  ; 
His  love  he  hath  unto  me  sent 

That  every  bale  and  grief  may  fleet ; 
And  since  my  heart  was  fired  and  brent  [burned] 

With  my  Lord's  love  so  dear  and  sweet, 
Away  from  me  all  sorrow  went. 

And  it  and  I  no  more  will  meet.^ 

In  a  poem  of  this  collection,  entitled  by  its  editor 
The  Mirror  of  the  Periods  of  a  Man's  Life,  the  writer 
pictures  to  himself,  as  in  a  dream,  the  earthly  history 
of  a  human  soul  from  the  time  when  the  babe  was  born 
into  the  world,  and 

All  alone  as  God  him  maked. 

Into  a  wild  that  child  did  go  ; 
Till  two  in  governance  it  taked — 

An  angel  friend,  an  angel  foe. 

The  story  traces  in  its  course  the  varied  temptations  and 
sins  which  beset  the  several  periods  of  life  from  the 
time  when  the  infant  becomes  conscious  of  good  and 

1  Hymns  to  Christ,  etc.,  ed.  by  T.  J.  Furnivall,  E.E.T.S.  24 :  *  Jhesu, 
Lord,  that  madist  me.' 

'^  Id.  84  :    *  Love  is  a  thougt  with  gret  desyr. ' 


icx)  Religious  Thought  i7i 

evil,  until  the  old  man  of  a  hundred  years  sinks  into 
his  grave.  Towards  its  close,  Wanhope  (Despair)  is 
represented  as  seeking  to  persuade  the  aged  man  that 
his  sins  have  been  too  great  for  mercy,  and  that  it  is 
useless  even  to  ask  for  it.  But  he  returns  answer  that 
he  will  ask  on  unwearied — 

For  if  perchance  a  man  be  wounded  sore 
And  ask  no  medicines,  'tis  his  will  to  die  ; 

But  God  hath  mercies  still  enough  in  store 
For  worlds  in  thousands  that  for  mercy  cry.^ 

I  must  refer  to  only  one  more  poem  in  this  collection 
— \S\dX  Wd^v^^di  Reverter e.     It  begins: — 

In  a  noontide  of  a  summer's  day 

(The  sun  full  merry  shone  that  tide) — 
I  took  my  hawk  all  for  to  play, 

My  spaniel  running  by  my  side. 
A  pheasant  hen  soon  gan  I  see 

My  hound  put  up  all  fair  to  flight 
I  sent  my  falcon,  let  him  fly. 

It  was  to  me  a  dainty  sight. 

He  ran  on  fast,  but  tumbled  over  a  briar,  and  every 
leaf  of  it  seemed  to- say  *  Revertere  ! ' — ('  Turn  again  ! ') 

O  turn  again,  Man,  I  thee  pray, 
And  think  in  heart  what  thou  hast  been. 

It  led  him  to  study  sore  his  life.  He  found  that  he 
had  not  well  used  the  hot  summer  of  his  life.  His  heart 
had  fled  away,  like  the  hawk,  but  not  to  God — only,  alas, 
after  the  pheasant,  Pleasure  : 

Then  found  I  me  far  fled  away 

From  God  in  all  His  majesty. 
But  now  no  thing  my  heart  shall  stay, 

But  that  I  sing,  'Revertere.'- 

My  next  quotation,  from  another  collection  of  fif- 
teenth century  verse,  is  from  a  poem  which  most  likely 
dates  from  Edward  the  Fourth's  reign  : — 

1  Hymns  to  Christy  etc.     From  the  poem  beginning  '  In  wyntir  nygt  or 
y  waked.' 

2  Id.  *  In  a  noon-tijd  of  a  somers  day.' 


Old  English  Verse  loi 

Now  is  well,  and  all  things  right, 
And  Christ  is  come  as  a  true  knight, 
To  be  our  brother,  King  of  Might, 

The  fiend  to  fend  and  all  his  ; 
Thus  the  fiend  is  put  to  flight, 

And  all  his  boast  abated  is. 

Since  it  is  so,  let  us  well  do. 

For  there  is  none  but  one  of  two — 

Heaven  to  get,  or  heaven  forego  ; 

Means  beside  none  other  is  ; 
I  counsel  you,  since  it  is  so, 

Ye  do  well,— to  win  ye  bliss. 

Now  is  well,  and  all  is  well, 

And  right  well,  so  we  have  bliss  ; 

And  since,  so,  all  is  so  well, 
I  rede,  we  do  no  more  amiss. ^ 

The  following  are  some  verses  from  another  poem 
in  the  same  manuscript : — 

Though  thou  be'st  king  and  wear  the  crown, 
Though  thou  be'st  lord  of  tower  and  town, 
I  set  not  by  thy  great  renown. 
But  an  thou  will  amend-es  make. 

Sinful  man,  for  Christes  sake. 

Man,  thou  art  both  stiff  and  strong. 
Many  a  man  thou  hast  done  wrong  ; 
'  Well  away  ! '  shall  be  thy  song, 
But  an  thou  wilt  amend-es  make 

Sinful  man,  for  Christes  sake. 

Than,  beware  !  the  way  is  scheder  [sharply  parted], 

Thou  must  scleder  [slide  down],  thou  wottest  weder  [whether], 

Body  and  soul,  and  all  togeder. 

But  an  thou  wilt  amend-es  make. 

Sinful  man,  for  Christes  sake.^ 

Among  the  poems  of  the  age  of  Edward  the  Fourth, 
in  the  Parkington  manuscript  is  one  entitled  The  Vision 


^  Sotigs  and  Carols  of  Fifteenth   Century,  ed.   by  T.   Wright  for  the 
Percy  Society,  1847  :   '  Now  ys  wele  and  all  thyng  arygt.' 
^  Id.  44  :  '  Thow  thou  byst  kyng  and  were  the  crowne.' 


I02  Religious  Thought  in 

of  PJiilibert  respecting  the  Body  and  So7d.  The  Latin 
of  which  this  is  a  metrical  version  is  supposed  to  have 
been  by  Walter  de  Mapes.  Such  mutual  recriminations 
of  soul  and  body  after  death  were,  as  I  have  before  had 
occasion  to  remark,  a  subject  that  frequently  occurs  in 
in  very  early  English  poetry.  The  one  now  under 
notice  is  rather  a  long  piece,  out  of  which  I  quote  two 
verses.  The  soul  stands  by  the  body  weeping,  and 
reproaches  it : — 

'  I  am  a  soul  after  the  similitude 

Of  God,  a  creature  of  right  noble  wise, 
Ordained  to  be  of  that  great  multitude, 

That  to  God's  glory  shall  ascend  and  rise  ; 

But  thou,  alas  !  madest  me  to  despise 

My  God  ;  so  well  away  the  while  ! 

For  to  eternal  death  he  will  us  both  exile.' 

At  last  the  body,  long  upbraided,  starts  from  its 
coffin,  and  retorts  the  charge  : — 

'  Reason  God  gave  to  thee,  and  will,  and  mind. 
With  divers  goods  he  well  endowed  thee  ; 

He  gave  thee  all,  and  me  he  left  behind. 
Thy  subject  made,  in  full  siniple  degree. 
But  thou  wert  negligent  and  ruled  by  me. 
Thou  should'st  in  greater  measure  have  the  pain. 
In  reason,  as  me-thinketh,  of  us  twain.'  ^ 

The  English  verses  interspersed  amid  the  Latin  homi- 
letic  teaching  of  John  Wotton's  Speaduvi  Christiana 
(141 8)  have  a  certain  interest,  because  this  is  said  to 
have  been  the  first  printed  volume  in  which  English 
verse  appeared.  It  will  be  seen  from  the  extracts  given 
that  not  much  can  be  said  for  the  intrinsic  merit  of  the 
rhyme.  The  following  is  from  a  discourse  on  the  Book 
of  Wisdom  : — 

He  calleth  every  man  a  king 

That  here  hath  care  or  governing  ; 

He  bids  them  love  God  in  His  law. 

And  teach  it  others  to  keep  and  knaw, 

*  Early  English  Miscellanies^  selected  by  J.    O.   Halliwell  from   the 
Porkington  MS.  (Warton  Society),  pp.  12-39: 

I  am  a  sole  after  thi  siinlytiule 

Of  Ciod,  a  croatur  in  a  rygt  nobul  wyse. 


Old  English  Verse  103 

And  ever  therein  be  most  holy, 
And  then  in  heaven  they  crown'd  shall  be, 
And  have  more  worship  and  honour 
Than  ever  had  king  or  emperour. 

And  later  on  in  the  book  : — 

And  some  there  be  that  give  them  mickle 
To  the  world  that  is  both  false  and  fickle  ; 
On  it  their  love  the  most  they  set. 
And  it  the  love  of  God  will  let.^ 

The  following  are  some  lines  from  a  poem  written 
at  the  end  of  fifteenth  century  on  the  fly-leaf  of  a 
treatise  of  St.  Bonaventura,  printed  at  that  date.  It 
is  a  poem  of  ten  stanzas,  representing  Christ  pleading 
against  man's  mistrust. 

I  bade  thee  ask,  for  hear  I  wold  ; 

I  bade  thee  seek,  and  I  would  save  ; 
I  bade  thee  trust  and  make  thee  bold  : 

Ask  of  thy  Brother — thou  shalt  have. 

It  grieved  me  more,  the  sin  of  Cain, 

Than  Abel  dying  who  was  good  ; 
And  Judas'  loss  gave  greater  pain, 

Than  that  he  sold  me  to  the  rood. 
Pilate  and  Herod  were  so  wode  [mad], 

Yet  ne'er  would  I  my  ruth  forbid. 
Though  never  men  as  they  withstood. 

Mistrust  thee  never,  man,  for  thy  misdeed  ! 

^  John  Wotton,   Speciilitm   Christiana^   1480.      The  following  are  the 
words  as  they  stand.     I  quote  them  for  the  reason  above  mentioned  : — 

He  calles  euery  man  a  kyng 
That  here  has  cure  or  governyng, 
He  biddes  thaim  loue  god  in  hys  lavve 
And  teche  it  other  to  Icepe  and  knawe. 

And  ther  aboute  euer  to  he  most  helye 
And  than  schall  they  in  hevene  crouned  bee 
And  haue  more  worschip  and  honoure 
Than  euer  hadde  kynge  here  or  emperour. 

And  somme  they  be  that  yeve  them  mekyll 
To  the  world  that  ys  bothe  fals  and  fekyll 
On  hit  their  loue  most  they  sette 
And  hit  the  loue  of  God  most  wille  let. 


I04  Religiotts  Thozight  in 

Full  rather  would  I  die  again 

Than  one  drop  of  my  mercy  be  found  dry 
Full  lief  were  I  to  suffer  pain, 

To  save  a  soul  e'erlastingly. 
Great  power  have  I,  and  mastery  : 

And  a  King's  word  shall  stand  in  stead. 
O  man,  why  fly  in  thy  folly  ? 

Mistrust  thou  never,  man,  for  thy  misdeed  ! 
Look  upward  to  the  cross,  and  see  a  thief  : 

He  asked  for  mercy,  and  that  boon  he  got ; 
And  also  Paul,  that  did  me  great  repreef  [reproof], 

Worthy  apostle  was  anon,  I  wot. 
The  Magd'len  mercy  asked  for  her  trespass  ; 

And  Peter  thrice  forsook  me  in  his  dread  ; 
Yet  who  more  worthy  now  in  my  paldce  ? 

Mistrust  thee  never,  man,  for  thy  misdeed  !  ^ 

A  great  number  of  carols,  and  verses  of  a  kindred 
character,  have  been  preserved  in  two  manuscripts  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  both  of  which  have  been  edited 
by  Dr.  T.  Wright  in  two  separate  volumes.  One  of 
these  poems  is  shown  by  internal  evidence  to  have  been 
composed  about  1362,  and  many  of  them  may  have  been 
preserved  in  memory  a  number  of  years  before  they  were 
copied  out  in  the  collections  referred  to.  It  is  well 
known  how  very  ancient  some  of  the  carols  are  which 
are  even  to  this  day  traditionally  repeated  in  country 
places.  A  great  number  of  those  in  this  collection  pass 
from  the  Nativity  to  the  Crucifixion  ;  and  some,  although 
headed  by  the  Christmas  greeting  '  Nowel,'  are  entirely 
of  the  Passion.     For  example  : — 

'  Mary  mother,  come  and  see  ! 
Thy  Son  is  nailed  on  a  tree  ; 
Hand  and  feet  He  may  not  go. 

His  body's  wounden  all  in  woe. 
*  Thy  sweet  Son  that  thou  hast  bor'n. 
To  save  mankind  that  was  forlorn. 
His  head  is  wreathen  in  a  thorn, 
His  bliss-ful  body  all-to  torn.' 

^  Pieces  of  Ancient  Poetry  from   Unpublished  Manuscripts  and  Scarce 
Books ^  Bristol,  18 14,  p.  41  : 

I  bade  the  aske  for        *        I  wolde 

I  bade  the  seche  and  I  walde  save. 
The  MS.  is  in  parts  imperfect  and  illegible. 


Old  English  Verse  105 

When  he  this  tale  began  to  tell, 
Mary  would  no  longer  dwell, 
But  fast  she  hied  her  to  that  hill 

Where  Jesus  'gan  His  blood  to  spill. 

'Ah,  my  sweet  Son,  that  art  so  dear. 
Say  wherefore  have  men  hang'd  Thee  here  ? 
Thy  head  is  wreathen  in  a  brere  [briar]  : 
My  lovely  Son,  how  is  Thy  cheer  ? 

'  Sweet  limbs  to  which  I  gave  their  rest, 
That  comely  mouth  that  I  have  kissed — 
Now  on  the  rood  is  made  thy  nest : 

Dear  Son  of  mine,  say  what  is  best  ?' 

'  Woman,  to  John  I  thee  betake  ; 
John,  keep  this  woman  for  my  sake  ; 
For  sinful  souls  my  death  I  take. 

On  rood  I  hang  for  many's  sake. 

*  This  part  alone  I  needs  must  play  ; 
For  sinful  souls  I  die  to-day. 
There  is  no  wight  that  go'th  his  way, 
Who  of  my  pains  the  tale  can  say.'  ^ 

Among  the  carols  of  Henry  the  Sixth's  time  at 
latest,  is  the  following  curious  legend  for  St.  Stephen's 
Day:— 

Saint  Stephen  was  a  clerk  in  King  Herod's  hall, 

And  served  him  of  bread  and  cloth,  as  every  king  befall. 

Stephen  out  of  kitchen  came,  with  boar's  head  in  hand  : 
He  saw  a  star  was  fair  and  bright  over  Bethlehem  stand. 

He  cast  adown  the  boars  head,  and  went  into  the  hall  : 
'  I  forsake  thee.  King  Herod,  and  thy  works  all. 

'  I  forsake  thee,  King  Herod,  and  thy  works  all, 

There  is  a  child  in  Bethlehem  born  is  better  than  we  all.' 

'  What  aileth  thee,  Stephen  ?  what  is  thee  befall  ? 
Lacketh  thee  either  meat  or  drink  in  King  Herod's  hall  ? ' 


^  Songs  and  Carols  from  a  MS.  in  the  British  Museum  of  the  Fifteenth 
Centtiry,  ed.  by  T.  Wright,  No.  xlv.  : 

Mary  moder,  cum  and  se, 
Thi  sone  is  naylyd  on  a  tre. 


io6  Religions  Thought  in 

'  Lacketh  me  neither  meat  nor  drink  in  King  Herod's  hall ; 
There  is  a  child  in  Bethlehem  born  is  better  than  we  all.' 

'  What  aileth  thee,  Stephen  ?  art  thou  wode  [mad],  or  'ginnest 

to  brede  [brood]  ? 
Lacketh  thee  either  gold  or  fee,  or  any  rich  weed  ? ' 

'  Lacketh  me  neither  gold  nor  fee,  or  any  rich  weed  ; 

There  is  a  child  in  Bethlehem  born,  shall  help  us  at  our  need.' 

'  That  is  all  so  sooth,  Stephen,  all  so  sooth,  I  wis. 
As  this  capon  crow  shall,  that  lieth  here  in  my  dish.' 

That  word  was  not  so  soon  said,  that  word  in  that  hall. 
The  capon  crew  '  Christus  natus  est '  among  the  lords  all. 

'  Rise  up,  my  tormentors,  by  two,  and  all  by  one, 

And  lead  ye  Stephen  out  of  town,  and  stone  him  with  stone.' 

Tooken  they  Stephen,  and  stoned  him  in  the  way  ; 
And  therefore  is  his  even  on  Christes  own  day.^ 

Of  Other  carols  of  this  century,  I  can  only  find  room 
for  a  few  extracts : — 

As  they  came  forth  with  their  offering. 
They  met  with  Herod,  that  moody  king. 
He  asked  them  of  their  coming 

That  tide, 
And  thus  to  them  he  seyde  : 

'  From  whence  came  ye,  kinges  three  ? ' 
'  Out  of  the  East,  as  thou  mayest  see, 
To  seeken  Him  that  ever  shall  be 

Through  right. 
Lord  and  King  of  might.' 

'  When  ye  have  at  that  king  y-be, 

Come  ye  again  this  way  by  me, 

And  tell  me  the  sights  that  ye  have  see  ; 

I  pray. 
Ye  go  not  another  way.' 

Of  Herodys  that  moody  king, 

They  took  their  leave,  both  old  and  ying, 

And  forth  they  went  with  their  offering. 

In  sight, 
And  their  way  came  by  night. 

1  Songs  and  Carols,  ed.  by  T.   Wright,  xliv.  :  *  Seynt  Stevene  was  a 
clerk  in  kyng  Herowdcs  halle.' 


Old  English  Verse  107 

When  they  camen  into  the  place 
Where  Jesu  with  His  mother  was, 
They  made  offering  with  great  solace, 

Not  fear, 
With  gold,  incense,  and  myrrh.i 

In  this  time  rose  a  star  clear. 

Over  Bethlehem,  bright  as  fer  [fire], 

In  token  that  He  had  no  peer. 

Lord,  and  King  and  Emperour 

In  this  time,  it  is  befall, 
He  that  died  for  us  all. 
Born  He  was  in  asses  stall 

Of  Mary,  that  sweet  flower. 

In  this  time  camen  three  kings  ; 
They  camen  from  far,  with  rich  things, 
For  to  maken  their  offerings 

On  their  knees  with  great  honour. 

In  this  time,  pray  we 

To  Him  that  died  on  the  tree. 

On  us  have  mercy  and  pity, 

And  bring  us  all  to  His  tower.^ 


'  Nowel-el  ! '  both  old  and  ying, 
'  Nowel-el  ! '  now  may  we  sing. 
In  worship  of  our  heavenly  king. 
Almighty  God  in  Trinity. 

Listen,  lordings,  kind  and  dear. 
Listen,  ladies,  with  glad  cheer  ; 
A  song  of  mirth  now  may  ye  hear. 

How  Christ  our  brother  He  would  be. 

An  angel  from  heaven  was  sent  full  snel  [quick]. 
His  name  is  cleped  Gabriel  ; 
His  errand  he  did  do  full  snel  ; 

He  set  on  knee,  and  said  '  Ave.' 

And  said  he,  '  Mary,  full  of  grace, 
Heaven  and  earth  in  every  place. 
Within  the  time  of  little  space. 
Reconciled  it  shall  be.'  ^ 


^  Songs  and  Carols^  ed.   by  T.  Wright,  xxxix.  :  '  As  they  kerne  foryt 
with  here  ofteryng.' 

^  Id.  xlvii.  :  '  In  this  tyme  ros  a  sterre  cler.' 
^  Id.  Ix.  :  '  Nowel,  el,  bothe  eld  and  ying.' 


io8  Religious  Thought  in 


Welcome  be  thou,  Heavenly  King, 
Welcome,  born  in  one  morning  ; 
Welcome,  for  whom  we  shall  sing. 
Welcome  Yule.^ 


Sweet  Jesus  is  come  to  us. 

This  good  time  of  Christmas  ; 
Wherefore  with  praise  sing  we  always, 

Welcome  our  Messias  I 

Hey  now,  now,  now. 

The  God  almight  and  King  of  light, 

Whose  power  is  over  all. 
Give  us  of  grace  for  to  purchase 

His  realm  celestial. 
Hey,  etc. 

Where  His  angels  and  archangels 

Do  sing  incessantly. 
His  principates  and  potentates 

Do  make  great  harmony. 
Hey,  etc. 

With  one  accord  serve  we  that  Lord, 

With  lauds  and  orison. 
The  which  hath  sent  by  good  assent, 

To  us  His  only  Son. 
Hey,  etc. 

Lo,  what  kindness  in  our  distress 

The  Lord  did  show  us  then, 
The  death  to  take  all  for  our  sake, 

And  bring  us  from  Satan. 
Hey,  etc:^ 

One  of  the  most  distinguished  men  among  the  many 
who  were  proud  to  call  Chaucer  *  Master,'  was  James  L 
of  Scotland,  '  the  greatest  of  the  ill-starred  Stewart  line 
— the  best  king  who  was  ever  a  poet,  and  the  best  poet 
who  was  ever  a  king.  .  .  .  He  was  by  nature  a  soldier 
and  statesman,  and  equally  by  nature  a  man  of  letters. 

^  Songs  and  Carols,  ed.  by  T.  Wright,  Ixvii : 

Wolcum  be  thou,  hevene  kyng, 

Wolcum,  born  in  on  morwenyng, 

Wolcum,  for  horn  we  xal  syng, 

Wolcum,  yol. 
^  Id.  Ix.  :  *  Swet  Jhesus  is  cum  to  us.' 


Old  English  Verse  109 

While  still  a  prisoner  of  Henry  in  the  Round  Tower  of 
Windsor,  he  had  converted  the  castle-yard  into  a  court 
of  martial  exercise,  and  his  chamber  into  a  study.  Out 
of  doors,  he  became  a  horseman  and  a  runner  ;  indoors, 
a  musician,  a  lawyer,  and,  studying  "  his  maisters  dear," 
himself  a  poet.'^  It  was  during  his  captivity  (1405-24), 
during  which  he  grew  up  from  a  young  boy  into  the 
prime  of  manhood,  that  he  wrote  The  King's  Quair^ 
('  The  King's  Book'),  a  sort  of  allegorical  poem  descrip- 
tive of  his  feelings,  and  mainly  inspired  by  his  love  for 
Lady  Jane  Somerset,  first  cousin  of  Henry  v.,  whom  he 
afterwards  married.  Like  many  other  writers  of  that 
age,  he  has  mixed  together  very  incongruously  Scripture 
and  mythology — Christian  images  and  pagan  ones.  I 
quote  two  stanzas  from  his  poem,  not  by  any  means  as 
being  the  best  samples  of  his  style,  but  as  verses  which 
express  some  of  his  graver  and  more  devotional 
thoughts : — 

Take  Him  before  in  all  thy  governance. 

That  in  His  hand  holdeth  the  helm  of  all  ; 
And  pray  unto  His  ruling  Providence 

Thy  love  to  guide,  and  on  Him  trust  and  call. 
That  cornerstone  and  ground  is  of  the  wall, 
That  faileth  not ;  and  trust,  withouten  dread, 
Unto  His  purpose  soon  He  shall  thee  lead. 

For  lo  !  the  work  that  first  is  founded  sure, 

May  better  bear  apace  and  higher  be 
Than  otherwise,  and  longer  shall  endure 

By  manifold — this  may  thy  reason  see — 

And  stronger  to  foreward  adversity  ; 

Ground  therefore  all  thy  work  upon  the  stone, 

And  thy  desire  shall  forthward  with  thee  go'en.2 

Robert  Henryson  was  a  schoolmaster  of  Dunfermline, 
probably  in  the  Benedictine  convent  there,  and  lived 

1  J.  Nichols'  Sketch  of  Scottish  Poetry,  E.E.T.S.  47,  xviii. 
^  The  Quair,  maid  be  King  James  of  Scotland ^  in  Sibbald's  Chronicle 
of  Scottish  Poetry,  vol.  i.  : 

Tak  him  before  in  all  thy  governance, 

That  in  his  hand  the  stere  has  of  you  all, 
And  pray  unto  his  hye  purveyance, 

Thy  iufe  to  gye,  and  on  him  traist  and  call.' 

Stanzas,  cvi.-cvii. 


1 1  o  Religious  Thotcght  in 

during  the   latter  half  of  the   fifteenth   century.     The 
following  is  from  The  Abbay  Walk  : — 

Alone  as  I  walked  up  and  down 

In  an  abbey  was  fair  to  see, 
Thinking  what  consolatioun 
Was  best  in  all  adversity, 
By  chance  I  cast  aside  mine  eye, 
And  saw  this  written  on  a  wall. 
In  what  estate  man  that  thou  be. 
Obey,  and  thank  thy  God  for  all. 

Thy  kingdom  and  thy  great  empire, 

Thy  royalty  and  rich  array. 
Shall  not  endure  at  thy  desire. 
But  as  the  wind  shall  wend  away. 
Thy  goods  and  all  thy  goods  so  gay. 

When  fortune  list,  shall  from  thee  fall  ; 
Since  thou  such  samples  seest  each  day, 
Obey,  and  thank  thy  God  for  all. 

Blame  not  thy  Lord ;  so  is  his  will  ; 

Spurn  not  thy  foot  against  the  wall ; 
But  with  meek  heart  and  prayer,  still 

Obey,  and  thank  thy  God  for  all. 

This  changing,  and  great  variance. 
Of  earthly  states  or  up  or  down, 
Comes  neither  through  fortune  nor  chance. 
As  some  men  say  without  reasoun ; 
But  by  the  great  provisioun 

Of  God  above  that  rule  thee  shall : 
Therefore,  man,  ever  make  thee  boun  [bound] 
To  obey,  and  thank  thy  God  for  all. 

In  wealth  be  meek,  vaunt  not  thyself; 

Be  glad  in  woful  poverty  ; 
Thy  power  and  thy  wordly  pelf 
Is  naught  but  very  vanity. 
Remember  Him  that  died  on  tree, 
For  thy  sake  tasted  bitter  gall  ; 
What  His  laws  bid  and  set  on  he  [high] 
Obey,  and  thank  thy  God  for  all. 

^  Sibbald's   Chronicle  of  Scottish  Poetry,  vol.    i.   p.    183  ;    Heniyson's 
Abbay  Walk  : 

Allone  as  I  went  up  and  doun, 
In  ane  abbay  was  fair  to  se, 
Thinkand  quhat  consolatioun 
Was  best  in  all  adversitie. 


Old  English  Verse  1 1 1 

Some  time  in  the  fifteenth  century  an  unknown  writer, 
who  says  he  was  neither  monk  nor  friar,  wrote  a  poem 
in  Lowland  Scotch  of  over  2000  Hnes  under  the  out- 
landish title  of  Ratis  Ravings  i.e.  '  Raving  or  Mad 
Counsels.'     He  explains  why  he  gave  it  this  name. 

For  now  is  endyt  this  matere 
The  quhilk  is  ratis  raving  call'd 
But  for  no  raving  I  it  hald, 
But  for  richt  wis  and  gud  teching. 

It  is  an  elaborate  religious  and  moral  essay  in  verse. 
First,  of  the  temptations  through  the  five  senses.  Then 
of  fortitude,  honesty,  prudence,  and  temperance.  Then 
of  faith,  hope,  and  charity.  Then  of  the  seven  deadly 
sins.  Then  precepts  in  morals  and  manner.  Then  of 
the  seven  ages.  Then  of  the  virtues  of  good  women, 
and  so  forth.     I  quote  a  few  lines  : — 

The  seven  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost 

Are  things  which  God  hath  blessed  most. 

For  they  reach  up  right  to  the  heaven  ; 

And  all  that  cometh  of  the  seven 

Love,  loyalty,  and  chastity, 

And  all  goodness,  and  all  bounty, 

Spring  up  from  them  and  from  their  place, 

As  the  divisions  are  of  grace  : 

That  place  stands  true  in  all  blitheness, 

And  full  of  grace  and  all  goodness.'- 

He  had  a  very  ill  opinion   of  the  moral  state  of  his 
country  at  that  time  : — 

For  wit  is  turned  to  ill  ingene  [disposition]. 
And  falsehood  comes  in  floods,  I  ween. 
And  godliness  is  all  foryet  [forgotten], 
And  malice  porter  at  the  gate  ; 
And  great  lordship  and  seigniory 
Is  all  o'erta'en  with  tyranny, 
That  aye  with  justice  is  a  fed  [at  feud]. 
And  fosters  felony  in  its  stead. 

And  kingship,  that  should  have  no  peer. 
And  kings  of  lands  right  broad  and  fair, 

^  Sibbald's  Chronicle  of  Scottish  Poetry^  649  :  '  The  sevyne  giftis  of  the 
haly  gaist.' 


112  Religious  Thought  in 

Just  as  they  like,  or  as  they  deem, 

O'erturn  the  right  they  have  to  yeme,  {^^y"eomlnf* 

So  right  and  law  is  laid  to  sleep. 

Is  there  no  king  these  things  to  keep, 

Who  will  the  good  hold  to  the  end, 

And  so  will  all  his  lifetime  spend  ?  ^ 

William  Dunbar  {c.  1460-c.  15 13)  was  educated  at  St 
Andrews,  and  then  entered  the  Franciscan  Order.  For 
a  time  he  was  a  mendicant  friar,  and  wandered  England 
through  '  from  Berwick  to  Dover.'  Between  1490  and 
1500  he  was  much  employed  on  the  Continent  on 
political  errands.  He  was  a  sort  of  unconscious  pre- 
cursor of  the  Reformation,  pelting  freely  and  coarsely 
not  only  the  general  vices  of  his  time,  but  in  particular 
the  abuses  in  the  Church.  Nor  did  he  always  dis- 
criminate whether  ridicule  were  just  or  not.  His  poems 
are  vigorous,  and  at  one  time  were  very  popular,  and  some 
of  them  appeared  in  the  first  volume  which  issued  from 
the  Scottish  press  in  1508.  Every  copy,  however,  of 
that  work  was  lost  until  a  decayed  and  mutilated 
portion  of  it  was  discovered  in  1788.  The  following  is 
from  Vanitas  Vanitatum  : — 

Walk  forth,  thou  pilgrim,  while  thou  hast  day-light, 
Haste  from  the  desert,  draw  to  thy  dwelling-place  ; 

Speed  home,  for  now  anon  cometh  the  night, 
Which  doth  thee  follow  with  unswerving  chase  ! 

Bend  up  thy  sail,  and  win  thy  port  of  grace  ; 

Ere  that  sure  death  o'ertake  thee  in  trespass.^ 

The  following  four  lines  are  from  his  Now  cometh  Age 
where  Youth  has  been  : — 

Is  none  so  true  a  love  as  He, 
That  for  true  love  of  us  did  de  ; 
He  should  be  lov'd  again,  think  me. 

That  would  to  fain  our  love  obtain.^ 


^  Sibbald's  Chronicle  of  Scottish  Poets,  1482  :  '  For  wyt  is  twrnyt  in  mail 
engyne,'  etc. 

■-'  Poems  of  William  Dunbar,  ed.  by  J.  Small,  p.  244:  'Walk  furth, 
pilgrame,  quhile  thow  hes  dayis  lycht.' 

^  Sibbald's  Chronicle  of  Scottish  Poetry^  i.  23  :  '  Is  none  so  trew  a  luve 
as  he.' 


Old  English  Verse  1 1 3 

Gavin  Douglas,  third  son  of  Archibald,  fifth  Earl  of 
Angus,  *  the  most  learned  and  amiable  of  his  illustrious 
race,'  was  born  in   1474,  educated  at  St.  Andrews  and 
Paris,  became  Bishop  of  Dunkeld  in   15 15,  and,  getting 
involved  in  the  civil  war,  retired  to  England,  where  he 
died  in  1522.     He  is  best  known  by  his  translation  of 
Virgil ;  but  he  also  wrote,  after  the  fashion  of  the  poets 
of  that   age,   a   long   allegory  entitled    The   Palace  of 
Honour^  finished  in  1501,  which  is  so  far  a  religious  poem 
that  it  has  been  in  some  respects  compared  to,  or  rather 
contrasted  with,  TJie  Pilgrivis  Progress.     In  either  case 
the  pilgrim  is  conducted  under  supernatural  guidance  to 
a  glorious  celestial  city  where  bliss  and  goodness  dwell, 
and  many  fail  to  reach  it.     But  the  resemblance  does 
not  go  much  further.      In  Douglas's  poem  there  is  the 
most  extraordinary  mixture  of  Christian  ideas  and  per- 
sonages, and    of  others   taken    from   the   old   classical 
mythology.    It  is  enough  to  say  that  the  Muse  Calliope, 
by  the  appointment  of  Venus,  is  represented  as  setting 
forth  the  Christian  doctrines  of  faith,  baptism,  and  re- 
demption.    I   may  quote  the  lines  in  which  the  nymph 
describes  how  virtue  alone  abides  in  lasting  honour : — 
To  popes  and  bishops,  prelates  and  primates, 
To  emperors,  kings,  princes  and  potentates. 
Death  sets  the  term  and  end  of  all  their  height  ; 
They  go,  and  then  see  ye  what  on  them  waits  ! 
Nought  else  on  earth  but  fame  of  their  estates. 
And  nought  besides  but  virtuous  works  and  right 
Shall  with  them  wend,  neither  their  pomp  nor  might. 
Virtue  lives  aye  in  lasting  honour  clear  : 
Remember  then  that  virtue  hath  no  peer. 

For  virtue  is  a  thing  so  precious, 

Whereof  the  end  is  so  delicious. 

The  world  can  not  consider  what  it  is. 

It  maketh  folk  perfect  and  glorious  ; 

It  maketh  saints  of  people  vicious  ; 

It  causeth  folk  live  aye  in  lasting  bliss  ; 

It  is  the  way  to  honour  high,  I  wis  ; 

It  daunteth  death  and  every  vice  with  might ; 

Without  virtue,  woe  to  each  worldly  wight. 

Virtue  is  eke  the  sure  and  perfect  way, 
And  nothing  else,  to  honour  lasting  aye. 
H 


1 1 4  Religiotis  Thought  in 

Many  have  seen  bad  men  a  while  abide, 

And  then  anon  their  glory  fade  away 

(Whereof  we  see  examples  every  day). 

His  earthly  pomp  is  gone  when  that  he  died  : 

Then  is  he  with  no  earthly  friend  supplied 

Save  virtue  ;  well  for  him  who  hath  this  feir  [companion].^ 

Bishop  Douglas  also  wrote  another  semi-religious 
allegory  in  verse.  It  is  entitled  King  Harty  meaning 
the  heart  of  man  in  its  progress  through  life. 

It  is  well  known  what  delight  was  taken  throughout 
the  middle  ages  in  the  Miracle  Plays  or  Mysteries,  in 
which  most  of  the  leading  events  recorded  in  the  Old 
and  New  Testaments,  as  well  as  many  of  a  more 
apocryphal  kind,  were  represented  before  the  people 
in  dramatic  verse  with  all  such  show  and  pageantry  as 
the  resources  of  the  age  and  place  would  permit.  Some 
writers  have  thought  that  their  origin  dates  back  to 
quite  the  first  centuries  of  the  Christian  era.  The 
XpLaTo<;  lidaxoiv,  or  Chris fs  Passion,  is  generally  at- 
tributed to  Gregory  Nazianzen  in  the  fourth  century. 
It  seems,  however,  most  probable  that  religious  drama 
had  its  beginning  in  mediaeval  times  with  the  excite- 
ment of  the  early  Crusades,  about  which  time  they 
suddenly  became  common  both  in  England  and  the 
Continent.^  The  first  mention  of  them  in  this  country 
is  by  Matthew  of  Paris,  who,  writing  about  1240,  says 
that  Geoffrey,  afterwards  Abbot  of  St.  Albans,  brought 
out  the  miracle-play  of  St.  Catherine  while  he  was  yet 
a  secular  person.  This  must  have  been  at  the  end  of 
the  eleventh  or  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century,  for 
he  was  made  Abbot  in  1 1 19,  and  had  probably  assumed 
the  religious  habit  a  long  time  previously.  .  In  the  thir- 
teenth, fourteenth,  and  fifteenth  centuries  they  were  very 
frequent  and  popular.     The  series  of  Chester  Mysteries, 

^  ( J avin  Douglas's  Palicc  of  Honour.      Works,  ed.  by  J.  Small,  i.  75  : 
To  ])apis,  bischoppis,  prelatis  and  primaitis, 
Empreouris,  kingis,  princes,  potestatis. 

-  Marriott's  Preface,  ix.      Quarterly  Keviezv,  vol.  xlvi.  p.  481. 


Old  English  Verse  1 1 5 

of  which  twenty-four  are  extant,  begins  in  1268,  and  con- 
tinues to  1577.  The  Towneley  collection,  thirty  in  num- 
ber, acted  at  Widkirk  Abbey  in  Yorkshire,  date  back 
(judging  from  internal  evidence)  almost  as  far.  The  York 
Mysteries  began  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
There  is  extant  a  very  elaborate  programme  of  the 
sacred  pageant  in  that  city  for  141 5,  in  which  special 
parts  are  assigned  to  no  less  than  a  hundred  trade 
guilds.^  There  are  forty-two  of  the  famous  Coventry 
Mysteries  still  existing.  In  many  places  the  clergy 
took  part  in  them  ;  in  others,  especially  in  the  later 
dates,  they  appear  to  have  been  almost  entirely  under 
the  management  of  the  laity.  They  were  pressed,  to  a 
certain  extent,  into  the  service  of  the  Reformation. 
Edward  the  Sixth  is  said  by  Bale  to  have  written  one, 
De  Meretrice  Babylonica ;  and  Queen  Mary  thought 
them  so  pernicious,  from  their  connection  with  the  new 
teaching,  that  she  issued  a  proclamation  against  them. 
The  last  miracle-play  represented  in  England  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  that  of  CJirisfs  Passion,  acted  in 
the  time  of  James  the  First  at  Eli  House,  Holborn, 
on  a  Good  Friday,  in  the  presence  of  thousands  of 
people.  Fragments,  however,  of  the  miracle-play  of 
St.  George  are  still  common  enough  in  country  parts  in 
the  Christmas  mummeries. 

The  earliest  miracle-plays  were  probably  either  in 
Latin  or  Norman-French.  Even  when  English  had 
become  the  prevailing  tongue,  they  were  sometimes 
much  interlarded  with  Latin.  But  the  spectacle  was  at 
all  times  eloquent  to  the  eyes  of  the  populace,  and 
doubtless  often  left  a  deep  impression  on  those  who 
witnessed  it.  And  when  the  scenes  thus  acted  before 
them  were  worded  in  homely  vernacular  English,  the 
better  kind  of  religious  dramas  must  have  conveyed  a 
great  deal  of  very  effective  teaching.  Even  to  the 
modern  reader  some  of  them  are  full  of  graphic, 
picturesque  force ;   and  the  rude,  unlettered  style,  the 


^  A  full  list  is  given  in  the  preface  to  Marriott's  Collection  cf  MiracU 
Plays^  xviii. 


1 1 6  Religious  Thought  in 

rustic  humour,  the  quaint  touches  of  popular  English 
life,  however  incongruous  in  themselves,  all  tended  to 
inspire  the  spectators  with  a  sense  of  vividness  and 
reality.  They  differ  indeed  greatly  in  religious  value. 
There  are  some  of  them  in  which  the  Scripture  element 
seems  little  more  than  a  cloak  and  pretence  for  the 
introduction  of  what  would  otherwise  be  undisguised 
farce.  In  some,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  only  enough 
admixture  of  humour  and  common  life  to  clothe  the 
personages  of  the  sacred  history  with  a  familiar  colour- 
ing, such  as  would  serve  to  bring  them  thoroughly 
home  to  the  imaginations  of  the  common  people. 
As  for  irreverence,  where  none  was  intended  or  thought 
of,  it  can  scarcely  be  spoken  of  as  such.  The  Creator 
Himself,  was,  for  instance,  constantly  introduced  with- 
out the  slightest  sense  of  anything  unfitting.  In  one  of 
the  later  mysteries,  written  by  John  Bale,  Bishop  of 
Ossory,  in  1535,  entitled  God's  Promises — a  drama  in 
which  the  distinctively  religious  element  is  everywhere 
made  prominent — the  Divine  Being  is  represented  in 
each  of  the  seven  acts  in  interlocution  successively  with 
Adam,  Noah,  Abraham,  Moses,  Isaiah,  and  John  the 
Baptist.  Occasionally,  especially  in  the  later  periods, 
the  mysteries  almost  merged  into  moralities,  the  Scrip- 
ture personages  being  blended  with  allegorical  ones, 
and  the  serious  element  being  the  inculcation  of  certain 
virtues  rather  than  the  teaching  of  some  Scripture  fact 
or  the  illustration  of  some  religious  doctrine. 

I  will  quote  a  few  passages,  and  first  one  which,  with- 
out containing  anything  objectionable  to  modern  feeling, 
will  illustrate  the  broad  humour  which  is  continually 
found  in  these  dramas.  It  is  from  TJie  Deluge,  one  of 
the  Chester  Mysteries.  Noah  and  his  wife  and  sons 
have  just  been  represented  as  busily  employed  in  getting 
tools  and  timber  for  building  the  ark  : — 

Noah. — Now  in  the  name  of  God  I  will  begin 
To  make  the  ship  that  we  shall  in, 
That  we  be  ready  for  to  swim 
At  the  coming  of  the  flood. 


Old  English  Verse  1 1 7 

These  boards  I  join  together, 
To  keep  us  safe  from  the  weather 
That  we  may  roam  both  hither  and  thither 
And  safe  be  from  this  flood. 

After  a  few  more  lines,  he  declares  that — 

I  hold  all  meet 
To  sail  forth  at  the  next  weete  [tide]. 
This  ship  is  at  an  end. 
Wife,  in  this  castle  we  shall  be  keeped  ; 
My  children  and  thou,  I  would  ye  inleaped. 

Noah's  wife. — In  faith,  Noah,  I  had  as  lief  thou  hadst  slept 
For  all  thy  frankishfare. 
For  I  will  not  do  after  thy  rede. 

Noah. — Good  wife,  do  as  I  thee  bid. 

Noahs  wife. — By  Christ  not,  or  I  see  more  need, 

Though  thou  stand  all  the  day  and  rave. 

Noah. — Lord,  that  women  be  crabbed  aye  ! 
And  never  are  meek,  that  dare  I  say. 
This  is  well  seen  by  me  to-day, 
In  witness  of  you  each  one. 

Good  wife,  let  be  all  this  beere  [noise] 
That  thou  makest  in  this  place  here, 
For  they  all  ween  that  thou  art  master, 
And  so  thou  art,  by  St.  John. 

( Then  the  animals  are  supposed  to  come  in^  the  actors  mentioning 
aloud  their  names.,  and  bearing  figures  of  them  on  parchme7it.) 

Japhet. — Mother,  we  pray  you  altogether 
For  we  are  here,  your  childer. 
Come  into  the  ship  for  fear  of  the  weather. 
For  His  love  that  you  bought. 

Noahs  wife. — That  will  I  not  for  your  call, 
But  if  I  have  my  gossips  all. 

Shem. — In  faith,  mother,  yet  you  shall, 
Whether  you  will  or  not  ! 

{She  goes  in.) 
Noah. — Welcome,  wife,  into  this  boat  I 

Noahs  wife. — And  have  that  for  thy  note  ! 

{She  gives  hi7n  a  box  on  the  ear.j 

Noah. — Aha  I  marry,  this  is  hot  ! 
It  is  good  to  be  still, 

Ah,  childer,  methinks  this  boat  removes, 
Our  tarrying  here  hugely  me  grieves  ! 


1 1 8  Religious  Thought  in 

Over  the  land  the  water  spreads. 
God  do  as  He  will  \^ 

From  The  Nativity,  one  of  the  Coventry  Mysteries  : — 

Shepherd  i. — Now  God  that  art  in  Trinity, 

Thou  saw  my  fellowes  and  me  ; 

For  I  know  not  where  my  sheep  or  they  be, 

The  night  it  is  so  cold  ! 

Now  it  is  nigh  the  middle  of  the  night. 

These  clouds  are  dark  and  dim  of  light, 

That  for  them  I  can  have  no  sight. 

Standing  here  on  this  wold. 

But  now,  to  make  their  heartes  light. 

Now  will  I  full  right  stand  upon  this  looe  [knoll], 

And  to  them  cry  with  all  my  might  : 

Full  well  my  voice  they  know  : 

What,  ho  !  fellows  !  ho  !  ho  !  ho  ! 

Shepherd  2. — Hark,  Sim,  hark  !  I  hear  our  brother  on  the  looe, 
That  is  his  voice,  right  well  I  know. 
Therefore  toward  him  let  us  go. 
And  follow  his  voice  aright. 
See,  Sim,  see  where  he  doth  stond  : 
I  am  right  glad  we  have  him  fond. 
Brother,  where  hast  thou  been  so  long, 
And  this  night  it  is  so  cold  ? 

\st  Shepherd. — Eh,  friends,  there  came  a  gust  of  wind  with  a 
mist  suddenly, 
That  forth  of  my  way  went  I, 
And  great  heaviness  made  I, 
And  was  full  sore  afraid. 
Then  for  to  go  wist  I  not  whither. 
But  travelled  on  this  down  hither  and  thither. 
I  was  so  put  out  with  this  cold  weather, 
That  near  past  was  my  might. 

^fd  Shepherd. — Brother,  now  we  be  past  that  fright, 
And  it  is  far  within  the  night. 
Full  soon  will  spring  the  day  light. 
It  draweth  full  near  the  tide. 
Here  awhile  let  us  rest. 
And  repast  ourselves  of  the  best, 
Till  that  the  sun  rise  in  the  East 
Let  us  all  here  abide. 
( Then  the  Shepherds  draw  forth  their  meat,  and  do  eat  and  drink, 
and  as  they  drink,  they  Jind  the  star,  and  say  thus) — 

^  IVie  Dehige,  a  Chester  miracle-play,  ed.  by  Marriott,  6. 


Old  English  Ve7^se  119 

Brother,  look  up  and  behold, 

What  thing  is  yonder  that  shineth  so  bright  ? 

As  long  as  ever  I  have  watch'd  my  fold. 

Yet  saw  I  never  such  a  sight  in  field. 

Aha  !  now  is  come  the  time  that  old  fathers  have 

told, 
That  in  the  winter's  night  so  cold, 
A  child  of  maiden  born  be  He  wold, 
In  whom  all  prophecies  shall  be  fulfilled. 

Shepherd  i. — Truth  it  is,  without  nay. 

So  said  the  prophet  Esay, 

That   a  child  should  be  born  of  a  maiden  so 

bright. 
In  winter  nigh  the  shortest  day, 
Or  else  in  the  middle  of  the  night. 

Shepherd  2. — Loved  be  God,  most  of  might, 

That  our  grace  is  to  see  that  sight. 
Pray  we  to  Him,  as  it  is  right. 
If  that  His  will  it  be. 

That  we  may  have  knowledge  of  this  signification, 
And  why  it  appeareth  in  this  fashion  ; 
And  ever  to  Him  let  us  give  laudation. 
In  earth  while  that  we  be. 
( Then  the  angels  sing  '  Gloria  in  Excelsis.^)  ^ 

Later  on,  when  Herod  hears  that  he  has  missed  the 
Wise  Men  :— 

Herod. — Another  way  !  out  !  out  !  out  ! 

Have  those  false  traitors  done  me  this  deed  ? 

I  stamp,  I  stare,  I  looke  all  about ! 

Might   I   them  take,  I   should  them  burn  at  a 

glede  [flame]. 
I  rant,  I  roar,  and  now  run  I  wode  [mad]  ! 
Ah,  that  these  villain  traitors  should  have  marred 

my  mode  [temper]  ! 
They  shall  be  hanged,  if  I  come  them  to  ! 
{Here  Herod  rages  in  this  pageant^  and  in  the  street  also.)  ^ 

1  The  Nativity^  a  Coventry  play,  ed.  by  Marriott,  p.  66  : 

Now  God  that  art  in  trenete, 
Thow  sawe  my  fellois  and  me. 

2  Id,  83  : 

A  nothur  wey  !  owt  !  owt  !  owt  ! 

Hath  those  fawls  Iraytors  done  me  this  ded  ? 


1 20  Religious  Thought  in 


From    The  Crucifixion,  one  of  the   Towneley  Mys- 
teries : — 

Chris  tits. — My  mother  mild,  thou  change  thy  cheer, 

Cease  of  thy  sorrow  and  sighing  sere  [several, 
manifold]  ; 

It  sits  upon  my  heart  full  sore. 
The  sorrow  is  sharp  I  suffer  here  ; 
But  the  dole  thou  durest,  my  mother  dear, 
Marters  [tortures]  me  mickle  more. 
Thus  willeth  my  Father  that  I  fare. 
To  loose  mankind  of  bands  ; 
His  only  Son  will  He  not  spare. 
To  loosen  that  which  bound  was  ere 

Full  fast  in  fiendes'  hands. 
The  first  cause,  mother,  of  my  coming 
Was  for  mankind's  miscarrying  : 

To  salve  their  sore  I  sought. 
Therefore,  mother,  make  none  mourning, 
Seeing  that  man  through  my  dying- 
May  thus  to  bliss  be  brought.^ 

From  TJie  Descent  into  Hell  (Towneley  series) : — 

Christus. — Ye  princes  of  hell,  open  your  gate, 
And  let  my  folk  forth  go'n  ; 
A  prince  of  peace  shall  enter  thereat, 
Whether  ye  will  or  no'n. 

Rybald. — What  art  thou  that  speakest  so  ? 

Christies. — A  king  of  bliss  that  hights  Jesus. 

Rybald. — Yea,  hence  fast  I  rede  thee  go. 
And  meddle  thee  not  with  us. 

Belsabub. — Our  gates  I  trow  will  last, 
They  are  so  strong  I  wean. 
But  if  our  bares  brast  [burst], 
P^or  thee  they  shall  not  twyn  [break  a-twain]. 

Christus. — This  stede  [place]  shall  stand  no  longer  stoken 
[barred]. 
Open  up,  and  let  my  people  pass  ! 

Rybald. — Out,  haro  I    [the   Norman  war-cry]   our  bale   is 
broken, 
And  bursten  are  all  our  bands  of  brass  ! 


^  'Ihe  Crucifixion  :    a  Towneley  miracle-play,  ed.  by  Marriott,    153 
My  moder  mylde,  thou  chnunge  thi  chere.' 


Old  English  Verse  121 

Belzabub. — Haro  !  our  gates  begin  to  crak, 
In  sunder,  I  trow,  they  go  ; 
And  hell,  I  trow,  will  all-to  shak, 
Alas  I  now  I  am  woe  I  ^ 

From  Mary  Magdalene  (Digby  Manuscripts),  an  early 
and  lengthened  pageant  of  nearly  2300  lines  : — 

Mary  Magd. — When  I  saw  you  first.  Lord,  verily 

I  ween'd  ye  had  been  Symond  the  gardenere. 

Christus. — So  I  am  for  sooth,  Mary  ; 

Man's  heart  is  my  garden  here. 

Therein  I  sow  seeds  of  virtue  all  the  year  ; 

The  foul  weeds  and  vices  I  rend  up  by  the  rote  ; 

When  the  garden  is  watered  with  tears  clear, 

Then  spring  virtues,  and  smell  full  sote  [sweet].^ 

From    Chrisfs    Entry    into    Jernsaleni^    a     Chester 
play:— 

Peter  and  Philip  have  just  annotmced  to  the  keeper  of  the 
gate  that  Christ  is  coming  into  the  city.) 

Keeper  of  Gate. — Tidings,  good  men  ever>'  one  ! 
The  prophet  Jesus  comes  anon. 
Of  His  disciples  yonder  go'n 
Twain  that  were  now  here. 
For  His  marvels  leeve  [believe]  aye  upon. 
That  he  is  very  God's  Son, 
Or  else  wonder  were. 

\st  Citizen. — Ah  1  Lord,  blessed  must  thou  be  ! 
Him  will  I  go  now  and  see  ; 
And  so  I  rede  that  all  may 
Thitherward  take  the  way. 

zd Citizen. — Fellows,  I  leeve  [believe]  that  Christ  is  He, 
Comen  from  God  in  majesty  ; 
Else  such  marvels,  as  thinks  me. 
He  ne'er  did  day  by  day. 

id  Citize7i. — Lazarus  He  saved,  so  God  me  save. 
That  four  days  had  been  in  grave  ; 
Therefore  devotion  now  I  have 
To  welcome  Him  to  this  town. 

^  The  Descent  into  Hell:    a  Towneley  miracle-play,   ed.   by  Marriott. 
*  Extractio  Animarum,'  167  :  'Ye  prynces  of  helle,  open  youre  gate.' 

*  Ancient  Mysteries^  from  the  Digby  Manuscripts  ( Abbotsford  Club) ; 
Mary  Magdalene^  11.  1078-86  : 

Whan  I  sye  yow  fyrst,  Lord,  verely 

I  wentt  ye  had  byn  Symond  the  gardenere. 


1 2  2  Religious  Thought  in 

^th  Citizeii. — Branches  of  the  pahn  tree 
Each  one  in  hand  take  we, 
And  welcome  Him  to  this  city 
With  fair  processioun. 

^th  Citizen. — With  all  the  worship  that  I  may, 
I  welcome  Him  will  to-day. 
And  spread  my  clothes  in  the  way 
As  soon  as  I  Him  see. 

6///  Citizen. — These  miracles  approven  apertly  [evidently] 
That  from  the  Father  Almighty 
He  is  comen,  mankind  to  buy  : 
It  may  no  other  be. 

\st  Boy. — Fellows,  I  heard  my  father  say 

That  Jesus  the  Prophet  will  come  to-day, 
Thither  I  rede  we  take  the  way. 
With  branches  in  our  hands. 

id  Boy. — Make  we  mirth  all  that  we  may 

Pleasant  to  that  Lord^s  paie  [satisfaction]. 
'  Hosanna  ! '  I  rede  by  my  faye 

To  sing  that  we  founde  [begin]. 

{Then  the  boys  shall  go  towards  Jerusalem^  singing  ''Hosanna!^ 
with  paint  branches  in  their  hands.,  and  the  citizens  shall 
strew  their  clothes  in  the  way  a7td  sing,  etc.;  and  then  the 
Saviour  e7iters^  ridi7ig  o?t  aft  ass^s  colt.) 

From  The  Purification,  one  of  the  York  Mysteries  : — 

Scene  v.    Simeon's  House. 

Angel. — Old  Simeon,  I  say  to  thee 

Dress  thyself  forth  in  thine  array. 
Come  to  the  temple,  there  to  see 
Jesus,  the  babe  that  Mary  bore. 
Fear  not,  be  bold. 

Sim. — Ah,  Lord,  I  thank  Thee  e'er  and  aye. 
Now  am  I  light  as  bird  on  tree  ; 
My  age  is  gone,  I  feel  no  fray  ; 
Methinks  for  this  that  is  told  me 

I  am  not  old. 
Now  will  I  to  yon  temple  go 
To  see  the  Babe  that  Mary  bore. 
He  is  my  health  in  weal  and  woe 
And  helps  me  ever  from  great  care. 

^  The  Chester  Plays,  ed.  by  T.  Wright,  ii.  8 :  *  Tydings,  good  men 
everye  one.' 


Old  English  Vei^se  123 

Sce7ie  VI.     The  Te:mple. 

{Simeon  takes  the  babe  in  his  arms.) 
Now  come  to  me,  Lord  of  all  lands  ; 
Come,  Mightiest  by  sea  and  sands  ; 
Come,  Joy  by  street  and  eke  by  strands. 
On  mould  [earth]. 

Come,  halse  [embrace]  me.  Babe  that  art  best  born  : 
Come,  halse  me.  Gladness  of  our  morn  I 
Come,  halse  me,  else  I  had  been  lorn 
Of  old. 

Lord  God,  I  thank  Thee  of  Thy  grace 
That  Thou  hast  spared  me  a  space. 
This  Babe  within  my  arms  t'  embrace. 
As  prophecy  doth  tell. 

T  thank  Thee  who  my  life  hath  lent, 
I  thank  Thee  who  this  bliss  hath  sent, 
That  this  sweet  Babe,  in  my  arms  hent  [held] 
With  mirth  my  might  doth  mell  [mingle]. 

Ah,  Babe  !  blessed  be  Thou  for  aye, 
For  Thou  my  Saviour  art,  I  say, 
And  here  Thou  rulest  me,  in  fay. 
Through  all  my  life. 

Now,  blessed  be  Thy  holy  name. 
Thou  that  dost  save  us  from  all  shame. 
Thou  that  dost  guard  us  from  all  blame, 
And  from  all  strife.^ 

Although  the  general  spirit  of  the  Reformation  was 
unfavourable  to  the  production  of  the  scriptural  plays 
which  had  been  the  delight  of  earlier  generations,  a  few 
were  written  by  the  reforming  party.  John  Bale 
(1495- 1 563),  the  learned  Bishop  of  Ossory,  wrote  at  least 
eleven,  of  which  four  survive.  One  was  The  Laws  of 
Nature y  Man,  and  Christy  a  second  The  Promises  of 
God.  A  third  was  The  Brefe  Comedy  or  Enterlude 
of  fohan  Baptystes  Pre  achy  nge  in  the  Wyldemesse ; 
another  of  The  Temptation  of  our  Lord.  John  Bale 
was  a  Suffolk  man,  educated  in  a  Carmelite  [monas- 
ery,  and  afterwards  at  Jesus  College,  Cambridge.     He 

1  The   York  Mystery  Plays,  ed.  by  L.  Toulmin  Smith,  p.  444:   '  Olde 
Symeon,  I  say  to  thee.' 


124  Religious  Thought  in 

became  a  Protestant,  and  at  the  death  of  Lord  Crom- 
well, who  had  been  a  protector  to  him,  was  obliged  to 
take  refuge  for  six  years  in  Holland.  He  was  recalled 
by  Edward  VI.,  was  first  presented  to  the  living  of 
Bishopstoke,  and  afterwards  made  Bishop  of  Ossory, 
when  he  proved  himself  a  zealous  and  strenuous  ad- 
ministrator. Under  Queen  Mary,  he  narrowly  escaped 
death  by  flight  to  the  Continent.  At  Queen  Elizabeth's 
accession  he  returned,  and  died  at  Canterbury,  where 
he  was  a  prebend.  His  principal  work,  a  Latin  account, 
in  two  folio  volumes,  of  illustrious  British  writers,  was 
published  at  Basle  in  1549.  The  scriptural  play  on 
The  Temptation  was  written  in  1538.  As  a  poem  it  is 
of  no  particular  value,  but  it  is  very  interesting  in  its 
quaint  simplicity.  The  author  himself,  as  *  Baleus 
Prolocutor,'  is  introduced  as  reciting  the  Prologue, 
which  concludes  with  these  lines  : — 

For  assaults  of  Satan,  learn  here  the  remedy  ; 
Take  the  word  of  God,  let  that  be  your  defence  ; 

So  will  Christ  teach  you,  in  our  next  comedy  : 
Earnestly  print  it  in  your  quick  intelligence  : 
Resist  not  the  world,  but  with  meek  patience, 

If  ye  be  of  Christ.     Of  this  hereafter  ye  shall 

Perceive  more  at  large  by  the  story  as  it  fall.^ 

The  personages  in  the  play  are  our  Lord,  Satan,  and 
two  angels.    I  quote  the  passage  where  Satan  enters  : — 
Satan  {ten  tat  or) — 

Nowhere  I  further,  but  everywhere  I  noye  [hurt]  ; 

For  I  am  Satan,  the  common  adversary. 
An  enemy  to  man,  him  seeking  to  destroy 

And  to  bring  to  nought,  by  my  assaults  most  crafty. 

I  watch  everywhere,  wanting  no  policy, 
To  trap  him  in  snare,  and  make  him  the  child  of  hell. 
What  number  I  win,  it  were  very  long  to  tell. 
I  heard  a  great  noise,  in  Jordan  now  of  late. 

Upon  one  Jesus,  sounding  from  heaven  above  : 
'  This  is  mine  own  Son,  which  hath  withdrawn  all  hate. 

And  He  that  doth  stand  most  highly  in  my  love.' 

My  wits  this  same  sound  doth  not  a  little  move  : 

^  A  Bre/e  Comedy  or  Interlude  conceniyfige  the  Temptacyon  of  our  Lord 
and  Saver  by  Sat han  in  the  Desert.  Compiled  by  Johan  Bale  (Miscel- 
lanies, ed.  by  Grosart,  i.) 


Old  English  Verse  125 

He  Cometh  to  redeem  the  kin  of  man  I  fear  : 
High  time  is  it  then  for  me  the  coals  to  stir. 

I  will  not  leave  Him  till  I  know  what  He  is, 

And  what  He  intendeth  in  this  same  border  here 

Subtilty  must  help,  else  all  will  be  amiss. 
A  godly  pretence  outwardly  must  I  bear, 
Seeming  religious,  devout  and  sad  in  my  gear. 

If  He  be  come  now  for  the  redemption  of  man, 

As  I  fear  He  is,  I  will  stop  Him  if  I  can. 

{Hic^  si7nulata  religione,  Christum  aggreditor.) 

It  is  a  great  joy,  by  my  holydom,  to  see 

So  virtuous  a  life  in  a  young  man  as  you  be, 

As  here  thus  to  wander  in  godly  contemplation, 
And  to  live  alone  in  the  desert  solitary. 

Christiis. — Your  pleasure  is  it  to  utter  your  phantasy. 

Satan. — A  brother  am  I,  of  the  desert  wilderness. 

And  full  glad  would  be  to  talk  with  you  of  goodness. 
If  ye  would  accept  my  simple  company.^ 

The  Miracle  Plays  shaded  into  the  later  Moralities  by 
very  imperceptible  gradations.  Thus  in  Godlie  Qiieene 
Hester'^  published  in  1561,  there  are  brought  upon  the 
stage  not  only  the  historical  personages  connected  with 
Esther's  history,  but  also  such  allegorical  characters  as 
Pride,  Adulation,  and  Ambition.  In  one  of  the  more 
unblended  moralities,  Anima  (the  Soul  of  Man)  enters 
as  a  maid,  in  white  cloth  of  gold  purfled  with  miniver, 
a  mantle  of  black  thereupon,  and  a  rich  chaplet  with 
knots  of  gold.  Divine  Wisdom,  arrayed  in  royal  apparel, 
had  been  instructing  her.  When  she  enters,  she  speaks 
the  praises  of  the  Saviour  who,  when  she  was  nought, 
had  made  her  glorious,  when  she  was  in  peril  had 
guarded  her,  when  she  was  ignorant  had  taught  her, 
when  she  had  sinned  had  corrected  her,  when  she  was 

^  A  Brefe  Comedy  or  Interlude  concernynge  the  Temptacyon  of  our  Lord 
and  Saver  by  Sathan  in  the  Desert : 

No  where  I  fourther,  but  euery  where  I  noye, 
For  I  am  Sathan,  the  commen  aduersarye.' 

The  drama  is  given  by  Mr.  Marriott  as  an  example  of  one  of  the  later 
miracle-plays,  in  his  Collection  of  English  Miracle  Plays  and  Mysteries, 
1838,  p.  220. 

2  Fuller's  Worthies  [Miscellanies),  ed.  by  Grosart,  vol.  iv. 


126    Religious  Thought  in  Old  English  Verse 

heavy  had   comforted   her,   when   she  had   fallen    had 
raised  her  : 

When  I  come,  thou  receivest  me  most  lovingly, 
Thou  hast  anointed  me  with  the  oil  of  mercy. 
Thy  benefits.  Lord,  be  innumerable.^ 

'  A7uienl  Mysteries,  froju  the  Digby  Mamcscript  (Abbotsford  Club) : 
A  Morality,  11.  311-325. 


CHAPTER    V 

THE   SIXTEENTH   CENTURY 

Stephen  Hawes  was  a  disciple  of  Lydgate,  whom  he 
speaks  of  as  his  master  with  much  respect  and  admi- 
ration. He  was  a  native  of  Suffolk,  spent  some  time 
in  France,  and  was  made  a  Groom  of  the  Chamber 
to  Henry  VII.  Wis  Pastime  of  Pleasure,  1506,  is  an 
allegorical  poem  of  some  length.  Towards  the  end  it 
takes  a  more  distinctly  religious  colour  than  in  its 
previous  course.  The  following  is  from  the  chapter 
entitled  '  How  Remembraunce  made  his  epitaph  on  the 
Grave  of  the  Knight  (of  La  Grande  Amour).' 

O  earth  on  earth  !     It  is  a  wonder's  case 

That  thou  art  bUnd,  and  wilt  not  thyself  know  ; 

Though  upon  earth  thou  hast  thy  dwelling  place, 
Yet  earth  at  last  must  needs  thee  overthrow. 
Thou  thinkest  earth  do  be  no  earth  I  trow, 

For  if  thou  didst  thou  wouldest  then  apply 

To  forsake  pleasure  and  to  learn  to  die. 

Pride,  Wrath,  Envy,  and  other  allegorical  personages, 
continue  in  much  the  same  strain,  and  then  comes  a 
verse  concluded  by  two  very  familiar  lines.  I  do  not 
know  whether  Hawes  was  the  originator  of  them,  or 
whether  he  simply  made  use  of  a  sort  of  proverbial 
saying.  But  it  is  rather  a  disappointment  to  find  that 
he  is  speaking  not  so  much  of  peace  and  rest  following 
after  care,  as  of  darkness  following  upon  light. 

O  mortal  folk,  ye  may  behold  and  see 

How  I  lie  here,  sometime  a  mortal  knight. 

The  end  of  joy  and  all  prosperity 

Is  death  at  last,  in  his  sure  course  and  might  : 
After  the  day  cometh  the  darksome  night ; 

For  though  the  day  be  never  so  long, 

At  last  the  bells  ring  unto  evensong. 


128  Religious  Thought  in 

Then  in  your  spirit  inwardly  despise 
The  brittle  world  so  full  of  doubleness, 

With  the  dull  flesh,  and  O,  right  soon  arise 
Out  of  your  sleep  of  mortal  heaviness.^ 

I  am  glad  to  introduce  even  a  passing  mention  of 
Sir  Thomas  More  (1480-1535).  He  may,  in  some  sort, 
be  entitled  a  writer  of  sacred  poetry  by  virtue  of  his 
translation  in  English  verse  of  the  Rules  of  John  Pieus^ 
Ear!  of  Mirandula.     I  quote  four  of  the  stanzas  : — 

Serve  God  for  love  then,  not  for  hope  of  meed. 
What  service  may  so  desirable  be 

As  where  all  turneth  to  thine  owne  speed  ? 
Who  is  so  good,  so  lovely  eke  as  He  ? 
Who  hath  already  done  so  much  for  thee  : 
As  He  that  first  thee  made,  and  on  the  rood 
Eft  [after]  thee  redeemed  with  His  precious  blood? 

Wherefore,  good  Lord,  that  full  of  mercy  art. 
Unto  Thy  grace  and  sovran  dignity 

We  sely  [poor]  wretches  cry  with  humble  heart, 
Our  sins  forget,  and  our  malignity  ! 
With  piteous  eye  of  Thy  benignity 
Friendly  look  on  us  once.     Thine  own  we  be  ; 
Servants  or  sinners,  whether  it  liketh  thee  : — 

Sinners, — if  Thou  our  crime  behold  certain, 
Our  crime,  the  work  of  our  uncourteous  mind  : 

But  if  Thy  giftes  Thou  behold  again — 
Thy  giftds,  noble,  wonderful,  and  kind — 
Thou  shalt  us  then  the  same  persones  find, 
Which  are  to  Thee  and  have  been  long  space 
Servants  by  nature,  children  by  Thy  grace. 

Cirant,  I  Thee  pray,  such  heat  into  mine  heart, 

That  to  this  love  of  Thine  may  be  egdl  [correspondent]  ; 

Grant  me  henceforth  from  Satan's  bonds  to  start, 
With  whom  me  rueth  long  to  have  been  thrall. 
Grant  me,  good  Lord,  and  Creatdur  of  all, 
The  flame  to  quench  of  all  shameful  desire. 
And  in  Thy  love  set  all  mine  heart  afire  !  - 

^  Stephen  Ilawes,  The  Pastime  of  Pleasure  (Percy  Society). 
-   The   Workes  of  Sir   Thomas  More,   K?iyght,  sometyme  Lord  Chaun- 
cellour  of  England,  wfytten  by  him  in   the  Englysh  tongc,   ed.    by  W, 
Rastell,  1557,  pp.  32-3: 

Serue  God  for  lone,  then,  not  for  hope  of  meede, 
What  seruice  niaie  so  desirable  bee. 


Old  English  Verse  1 29 

Anne  Askewe  (1520-46),  daughter  of  Sir  William 
Askewe,  who  accepted  the  Reformed  doctrines,  and 
suffered  death  for  her  opinions  in  the  truest  spirit 
of  a  martyr,  wrote  some  lines  after  her  last  examina- 
tion at  Newgate,  from  which  I  take  the  following 
verses  : — 

Like  as  the  amied  knight 

Appointed  to  the  field, 
With  this  world  will  I  fight, 

And  faith  shall  be  my  shield. 

Faith  is  that  weapon  strong 

Which  will  not  fail  at  need  ; 
My  foes,  therefore,  among 

Therewith  will  I  proceed. 

As  it  is  had  in  strength 

And  force  of  Christian  way. 
It  will  prevail  at  length. 

Though  all  the  devils  say  nay. 

Faith  in  the  fathers  old 

Obtained  righteousness. 
Which  makes  me  very  bold 

To  fear  no  world's  distress. 

I  now  rejoice  in  heart, 

And  hope  bids  me  do  so. 
For  Christ  will  take  my  part. 

And  cure  me  of  my  woe. 

And,  finally,  she  concludes  that  for  no  passing  gale 
should  her  ship  drop  timidly  its  anchor : 

I  am  not  she  that  list 

My  anchor  to  let  fall. 
For  every  drizzling  mist. 

My  ship  substantiall.^ 

John  Croke  was  a  serjeant-at-law  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  viii.  and  Edward  VL,  and  died  in  1554.  He 
was  a  very  rich  man,  a  Master  in  Chancery,  the  owner 
of  estates  in  Buckinghamshire,  and  in  1547  member  of 
Parliament    for    Chippenham.      His    translations    into 

^  From  The  Female  Poets  of  Great  Britain,  by  Frederic  Rowton, 
1848,  p.  8. 

I 


130  Religious  TJwMght  in 

verse  of  thirteen  Psalms  and  of  part  of  Ecclesiastes 
have  been  published  by  the  Percy  Society.  It  will  be 
enough  to  quote  three  verses  from  Psalm  li. : — 

With  hyssop — bitter  tears,  I  mean — 
Sprinkle  me  oft,  my  faults  to  know  : 

Then,  if  that  Thou  wilt  wash  me  clean, 
I  shall  be  whiter  than  the  snow. 

Unto  mine  ears,  within  short  space, 
Of  joy  or  bliss  shall  come  the  choice. 

The  bones  that  bowed  to  Thee  for  grace- 
Shall  in  Thy  mercy  then  rejoice. 

Offer  we  must  for  sacrifice 

A  troubled  mind,  with  sorrow's  smart. 

Canst  Thou  refuse  ?     Nay,  nor  despise 
The  humble  and  the  contrite  heart.^ 

Miles  Coverdale  (1488-1569),  translator  of  the  Bible, 
was  brought  up  in  the  monastery  of  the  Augustines 
at  Cambridge,  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Barnes,  who  after- 
wards perished  at  the  stake  for  his  adherence  to  the 
Reformed  doctrines.  He  received  priest's  orders  in 
1 5 15,  and  quickly  became  prominent  among  the  leaders 
of  the  Reformation.  His  Bible,  from  which  comes  the 
Prayer-Book  version  of  the  Psalms,  was  published  in 
1535  ;  a  later  edition — the  'Great  Bible' — in  1539,  ^-^^ 
his  second 'Great  Bible,' or  '  Cranmer's  Bible,'  in  1540. 
After  the  execution  of  his  constant  patron,  Thomas 
Cromwell,  he  went  abroad.  At  Edward  the  Sixth's 
accession  he  returned  to  England,  and  was  consecrated 
Bishop  of  Exeter  in  1551.  When  Mary  succeeded  he 
was  deprived  and  placed  under  arrest,  but  was  suffered 
to  leave  the  country  at  the  earnest  intercession  of  the 
King  of  Denmark.  He  took  refuge  at  Geneva,  and 
became  so  much  influenced  by  the  opinions  prevalent 
there  that,  on  his  return  to  England  in  1559,  although 
he  continued  to  preach,  and  subscribed  himself  to  the 
last  Bishop  of  Exeter,  he  declined  holding  any  definite 

^  John  Crake's  *  Thirteen  Psalms,'  ed.  by  Dr.  Bliss  ;  Percy  Soc.  vol.  xi. 
The  Psalm  begins  :  'All  myghty  God,  Lord  Eternall.' 


Old  English  Verse  1 3 1 

office  in  the  English  Church.  Among  his  other  works 
is  a  collection  of  Goostly  Psalnies  and  Spirituall  Songs. 
His  metrical  psalms  are  very  rude  and  unadorned.  The 
simplicity  of  his  paraphrases  of  the  Credo  and  Pater- 
Noster  compensates  for  many  defects.  I  quote,  retain- 
ing the  original  spelling,  his  version  of  the  Pater- 
Noster : — 

O  oure  Father  celestiall, 

Now  are  we  come  to  praye  to  The. 

We  are  Thy  chyldren,  therefore  we  call  ; 

Hear  us,  Father,  mercifully. 

Now  blessed  be  Thy  godly  name, 

And  ever  among  us  sanctified  : 

There  is  none  other  but  this  same 

Wherby  mankynde  must  be  saved. 

Kirieleyson. 

Thy  kyngdome  come  :  reigne  Thou  in  us, 
For  to  expell  all  synne  awaye  ; 
Let  not  Sathan  dwell  in  thy  house, 
To  put  The  forth  by  nyght  nor  day. 
Fulfilled  be  Thy  godly  wyll 
Among  us  all,  for  it  is  ryght  ; 
As  they  in  heaven  do  it  fulfyll. 
So  let  us  do  both  daye  and  nyght. 

Kirieleyson. 

Our  dayly  bred  geve  us  this  daye  ; 
And  let  us  never  perysh  for  nede. 
The  litle  byrdes  Thou  fedest  alwaye  ; 
Thyne  own  chyldren  than  must  Thou  fede. 
Our  dettes  are  great  ;  forgeve  us,  Lorde, 
As  we  our  detters  all  forgeve. 
And  let  us  alwaye  be  restored 
To  Thy  mercy,  that  we  may  live. 

Kirieleyson. 
Tentacyon  is  sore  in  use 
And  strongly  now  are  we  proved  ; 
Good  Lorde,  Thou  mayst  us  not  refuse, 
We  praye  The  with  us  to  abyde  : 
Not  that  alone,  but  helpe  us  out 
From  parels  all  and  ioperdy  ; 
Let  not  evell  sprete  put  us  in  doute 
Of  Thy  favour  and  great  mercy. 

Kirieleyson.^ 

^  Remains  of  My  les  Coverdale,  ed.  for  Parker  Soc.  by  G.  Pearson,  p.  549. 


132  Religio2is  Thought  in 

The  following  are  a  few  lines  from  an  Easter  Song: — 

It  was  a  marvelous  great  thynge 
To  se  how  death  with  death  dyd  fyght : 
For  the  one  death  gat  the  wynnynge, 
And  the  other  death  lost  his  myght. 

Alleluya.^ 

Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  the  Elder,  and  Henry  Howard, 
Earl  of  Surrey,  are  names  which  are  frequently  coupled 
together.  They  were  intimate  friends.  Both  were 
great  personages  in  court ;  both  held  high  office ;  both 
were  talented,  witty,  and  accomplished  ;  both  wrote 
verses  full  of  love  and  sentiment,  in  a  style  formed  in 
great  measure  upon  the  model  of  the  Italian  poets. 
Wyat  was  the  elder  by  several  years.  He  was  born 
in  1503,  and  died  in  1541.  Surrey  was  charged  with 
high  treason,  and  beheaded  a  few  days  before  the  death 
of  Henry  Vlll.,  in  1547.  The  general  resemblance  be- 
tween the  two  friends  is  remarkably  and  pathetically 
carried  out  in  their  religious  verses.  For  in  either  case 
these  compositions  touchingly  illustrate  the  emptiness, 
as  compared  with  the  deeper  needs  of  human  nature, 
of  all  that  the  world  most  values.  Men  said,  admiringly, 
of  Wyat,  that  in  him  were  combined  the  wit  of  Sir 
Thomas  More  and  the  wisdom  of  Sir  Thomas  Cromwell. 
He  gave  splendid  entertainments,  and  his  acquaintance 
was  everywhere  courted.  He  was  ambassador  to  the 
Emperor — an  office  for  which  he  was  well  fitted  by  his 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  political  relations  of  the 
country.  He  was  accounted  also  a  discerning  and 
generous  patron  of  learned  men.  Surrey  had  held  the 
jousts  at  Westminster  against  all  comers,  had  been 
Field-Marshal  in  France,  and  had  distinguished  himself 
at  Flodden  Field.  Meanwhile,  in  their  religious  medi- 
tations, we  find  Surrey  dwelling  on  those  passages  in 
Ecclesiastes  which  tell  of  the  vanity  of  all  human  pomps, 
and  both  Wyat  and  him  humbling  themselves  before 
their  Maker  in  the  contrite  outpourings  of  the  Peni- 

'   Remains  of  Myles  Coverdale,  p.  564. 


Old  English  Verse  133 

tential  Psalms.  The  following-  is  a  part  of  Sir  Thomas 
Wyat's  version  of  the  Sixth  Psalm  : — 

O  Lord,  I  dread  ;  and  that  I  did  not  dread 

I  me  repent,  and  evermore  desire 
Thee,  Thee  to  dread.     I  open  here  and  spread 

My  faults  to  Thee  ;  but  Thou,  for  Thy  goodness, 
Measure  it  not  in  largeness  nor  in  breadth. 

Punish  it  not,  as  asketh  the  greatness 
Of  thy  furor,  provoked  by  mine  offence  : 

Temper,  O  Lord,  the  hann  of  my  excess 
With  mending  will,  which  I  for  recompense 

Prepare  again  ;  and  rather  pity  me, 
For  I  am  weak,  and  clean  without  defence  : 

More  is  the  need  I  have  of  remedy. 
For  of  the  whole  the  leech  taketh  no  cure  [care]  ; 

The  sheep  that  strayed  the  shepherd  seeks  to  see  : 
I,  Lord,  am  strayed,  and  sick  without  recure  [recovery].^ 

The  Earl  of  Surrey  has  left  some  verses  in  praise  of 
these  Psalms  of  Sir  Thomas  Wyat : 

Where  he  doth  paint  the  lively  faith  and  pure. 
The  steadfast  hope,  the  sweet  return  to  grace. 
Of  just  David,  by  perfect  penitence. 

They  were  quite  in  harmony  with  his  own  thoughts 
during  his  later  days  ;  as  also  w^ere  the  words  of  the 
Preacher : 

The  world  is  false,  man  he  is  frail,  and  all  his  pleasures  pain. 

Alas  !  what  stable  fruit  may  Adam's  children  find. 

In  that  they  seek  by  sweat  of  brow,  and  travail  of  their  mind  ? 

We  that  live  on  the  earth,  drawn  toward  our  decay — 

Our  children  fill  our  place  awhile,  and  then  they  fade  away.^ 

The  following  is  from  his  paraphrase  of  the  fourth 
chapter  of  Ecclesiastes  : — 

In  humble  spirit  is  set  the  temple  of  the  Lord  ; 
Where  entering,  look  thy  mouth  and  conscience  may  accord  ; 
Whose  Church  is  built  of  love,  and  decked  with  hot  desire 
And  simple  faith. 

^    Wyafs  Poems  ;  Chalmers'  English  Poets  : 

0  Lord,  I  dreade,  and  that  I  did  not  dreade 

1  me  repente,  and  euermore  desyre. 

^  Surrey's  Poems  ;  Chalmers'  English  Poets  : 

The  world  is  false,  man  he  is  frayle,  and  all  his  pleasures  payne. 
Alas  !  what  stable  frute  may  Adam's  children  fynde. 


134  Religious  Thought  in 


For  aye  He  in  His  work  doth  rest, 
With  gentle  care  to  hear  thy  suit,  and  grant  thee  thy  request. 
In  boast  of  outward  works  He  taketh  no  dehght, 
Nor  waste  of  words  ;  such  sacrifice  unsavoureth  in  His  sight.^ 

Surrey  also  paraphrased  several  of  the  Psalms. 

Thomas,    Lord   Vaux    (151 1-62),    descendant  of  an 
ancestor  who  had   been    Lord   of  Vaux  in  Normandy 
before  he  accompanied  William  I.  to   England,  wrote 
some  poems  of  which  one  or  two  are  of  a  religious  char- 
acter.    The  following  are  the  two  concluding  stanzas 
of  some  verses  on  The  Instabilitie  of  Youth  : — 
Thou  that  by  power  to  Hfe  didst  raise  the  dead  ; 
Thou  that  of  grace  restor'dst  the  bhnd  to  sight  ; 
Thou  that  for  love  Thy  life  and  love  out-bled  ; 
Thou  that  of  favour  mad'st  the  lame  go  right  ; 
Thou  that  canst  heed  and  help  in  all  assays, 
Forgive  the  guilt  that  grew  in  youth's  vain  ways  ! 
And  now  since  I,  with  faith  and  doubtless  mind 
Do  fly  to  Thee  b\'  prayer  to  appease  Thy  ire  ; 
And  since  tiiat  Thee  I  only  seek  to  find, 
And  hope  by  faith  to  attain  my  just  desire  ; 

Lord,  mind  no  more  youth's  error  and  unskill. 
And  able  age  to  do  Thy  holy  will.^ 

The  following  is  from  his  lines  Of  a  Contejited  Spirit. 
I  should  like  to  have  matched  it  with  the  very  pleas- 
ing verses  of  Sir  Edward  Dyer — My  mynde  to  me  a 
kyngdonie  is,  and  so  to  have  included  that  writer 
among  authors  of  sacred  verse  ;  but  whereas  this  by  Lord 
Vaux  may  be  considered  as  coming  just  within  the 
verge  of  religious  poetry,  the  other  I  am  obliged  to 
consider  as  standing  just  without.  The  arrangement 
of  stanzas  is  that  of  Dr.  Hannah  in  his  interesting  com- 
pilation from  the  *  Courtly  Poets  '  of  1540-1650.^ 

^  Surrey's  Poems  ;  Chalmers'  English  Poets  : 

In  humble  sprite  is  set  the  temple  of  the  Lorde, 

Wher  yf  thow  enter,  loke  thy  mouth  and  conscyence  may  accorde. 

*  Poems  of  Lord  Vaux,   ed.    by  Grosart.     There  is  some  little  doubt 

whether  part  of  this  poem  was  not  by  J.    Haryngton.     But  Mr.  Grosart 

judges  it  far  most  probable  that  Haryngton  merely  wrote  out  the  poem 

with  some  variations  upon  it. 

3  J.  W-aLXVCi-M^  Poems  of  Raleigh,  Wotlon,  attd  other  Courlly  Poets  {i$/^o- 
1650),  p.  132. 


Old  English  Verse  135 

When  all  is  done  and  said, 

In  the  end  thus  shall  you  find 
He  most  of  all  doth  bathe  in  bliss 

That  hath  a  quiet  mind. 

And  clear  from  worldly  cares, 

To  deem  can  be  content 
The  sweetest  time  in  all  his  life 

In  thinking  to  be  spent. 

The  body  subject  is 

To  fickle  fortune's  power, 
And  to  a  million  of  mishaps 

Is  casual  every  hour  ; 

And  death  in  time  doth  change 

It  to  a  clod  of  clay. 
When  as  the  mind,  which  is  divine, 

Runs  never  to  decay. 

Our  wealth  leaves  us  at  death, 

Our  kinsmen  at  the  grave  : 
But  virtues  of  the  mind  unto 

The  heavens  with  us  we  have. 

Wherefore,  for  virtue's  sake, 

I  can  be  well  content 
The  sweetest  time  in  all  my  life 

To  deem  in  thinking  spent.^ 

In  a  note  to  the  verses  quoted  in  the  preceding  page, 
John  Haryngton  was  mentioned  as  the  possible  author 
of  the  verses  more  probably  ascribed  to  Lord  Vaux. 
Haryngton  did  not  write  much,  but  was  quite  able  to 
hold  his  own  among  the  minor  poets  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's Court.  He  stood  high  in  the  Queen's  favour, 
and  in  Mary's  reign  had  been  confined  in  the  Tower 
at  the  same  time  that  she  was,  for  correspondence  with 
her.  The  following  is  the  last  verse  of  an  Elegy  written 
by  him  during  his  imprisonment : — 

Death  is  a  port  whereby  we  pass  to  joy  : 
Life  is  a  lake  that  drowneth  all  in  pain  ; 

Death  is  so  dear  it  killeth  all  annoy  ; 

Life  is  so  lewd  [poor],  that  all  it  yields  is  vain  ; 

For  as  by  life  to  bondage  man  was  brought, 

Even  so  by  death  all  freedom  too  was  wrought.- 

^  Poems  of  Lord  Vaux^  ed.  by  Grosart,  vol.  iv.  :  '  When  all  is  doen 
and  saied.' 

^  Sir  J.  Harrington's  Nugcs  Antiqtde,  ii.  332. 


1 36  Religious  Thotight  in 

A  hymn  by  Walter,  Earl  of  Essex,  who  died  in  1576, 
was  written  during  intervals  of  great  pain,  and  was 
sung  by  him  very  shortly  before  his  death.  '  The  night 
following'  (runs  a  contemporary  account),  '  which  was 
the  night  before  he  died,  he  called  William  Hewes, 
which  was  his  musician,  to  play  upon  the  virginal  and 
to  sing.  ''  Play,"  said  he,  "  My  song.  Will  Hewes,  and 
I  will  sing  it  myself" '  It  was  the  following  Hyfmi  of 
Penitence : — 

O  heavenly  God,  O  Father  dear,  cast  down  Thy  heavenly  eye 
Upon  a  wretch  that  prostrate  here  before  Thy  throne  doth  he  ; 
O  pour  Thy  wretched  oil  of  grace  into  my  wounded  heart  ! 
O  let  the  drops  of  mercy  swage  the  rigour  of  my  smart. 

My  sinful  soul,  oppressed  sore  with  care-full  clog  of  sin, 

In  humble  wise  submits  itself.  Thy  mercy  for  to  win. 

Grant  mercy  then,  O  Saviour  sweet,  to  me  most  woefull  thrall. 

Whose  mournful  eye  to  Thee,  O  Lord,  doth  still  for  mercy  call. 

Thy  blessed  word  I  have  despised  upon  a  stubborn  mind. 
And  to  the  sway  of  worldly  things  myself  I  have  inclined  ; 
Forgetting  heaven  and  heavenly  powers,  where  God  and  saints 

do  dwell. 
My  life  had  like  to  tread  the  steps  that  leads  the  way  to  hell. 

But  O  my  Lord,  and  loadstar  bright,  I  will  no  more  do  so. 
To  think  upon  my  former  life  my  heart  doth  bleed  for  woe  : 
Alas,  I  sigh  ;  alas,  I  sob  ;  alas,  I  do  repent. 
That  ever  my  licentious  life  so  wickedly  was  bent. 

Since  thus  therefore  with  doleful  plaints  I  do  Thy  mercy  crave, 
O  Lord,  for  Thy  great  mercy's  sake,  let  me  Thy  mercy  have  ! 
Restore  to  life  the  wretched  soul  that  else  is  like  to  die  ! 
So  shall  my  voice  unto  Thy  name  sing  praise  eternally. 

Now  blessed  be  the  Father  first,  and  blessed  be  the  Son, 
And  blessed  be  the  Holy  Ghost  by  whom  all  things  were  done. 
Bless  me,  O  blessed  Trinity,  with  Thy  eternal  grace. 
That  after  death  my  soul  may  have  in  heaven  a  dwelling  place.^ 

There  is  also  a  hymn  which  has  been  ascribed  to 
Robert,  Earl  of  Essex,  the  powerful  favourite  of  Eliza- 
beth, which,  in  that  case,  would  have  been  written  just 

'  A  Godly  and  virtuous  Song  made  by  the  Honorable  the  Earle  of  Essexe^ 
late  deceased,  in  Grosart,  vol.  iv.  In  the  Paradyse  of  Daynty  Devises, 
1576,  it  has  the  initials  of  Francis  Kynwelmersh  ;  but  it  appears  from  Mr. 
Grosart's  investigations  that  there  is  no  question  about  the  real  author- 
ship, and  that  F.  K.  are  simply  the  initials  of  the  copyist. 


Old  English  Verse  137 

before  his  execution.  But  its  interest  is  lost,  ii,  as  ap- 
pears far  more  probable,  it  is  simply  a  sort  of  elegy, 
written  soon  after  his  death  by  an  anonymous  author. 
It  begins  : — 

Welcome,  sweet  Death,  the  kindest  friend  I  have.^ 

"^In  Xhe  Paradise  of  Dainty  Devices  (1575),  there  are 
two  hymns  by  Francis  Kynwelmersh,  of  whom  little  is 
known,  except  that  he  was  a  gentleman  of  Essex,  that 
he  was  a  member  of  Gray's  Inn,  and  that  in  1566  he 
joined  with  George  Gascoigne  in  translating  the  Jocasta 
of  Euripides.  The  following  are  two  verses  from  his 
hymn  for  Christmas  Day  : — 

This  day  to  man  came  pledge  of  perfect  peace, 

This  day  to  man  came  love  and  unity. 
This  day  man's  grief  began  for  to  surcease, 

This  day  did  man  receive  a  remedy 
For  each  offence  and  every  deadly  sin, 
With  guilty  heart  that  erst  he  wandered  in. 

In  Christes  flock  let  love  be  surely  placed  ; 

From  Christes  flock  let  concord  hate  expel  : 
Of  Christes  flock  let  love  be  so  embraced. 

As  we  in  Christ,  and  Christ  in  us  may  dwell. 
Christ  is  the  author  of  all  unity, 
From  whence  proceedeth  all  felicity.^ 

His  Hymn  for  Whitsunday  I  quote  in  full : — 

Come  Holy  Ghost,  eternal  God,  and  ease  the  woful  grief. 
That  through  the  heaps  of  heavy  sin  can  nowhere  find  relief. 

Do  Thou,  O  God,  redress 

The  great  distress 

Of  sinful  heaviness. 

Come,  comfort  the  afflicted  thoughts  of  my  consumed  heart  ; 
O  rid  the  piercing,  pricking  pains  of  my  tormenting  smart. 

O  Holy  Ghost,  grant  me, 

That  I  by  thee 

From  sin  may  purged  be. 


^  Essex  Laste  Voyage  to  the  Haven  of  Happitiess,  Grosart,  vol.  iv.  ;  and 
Hannah's  Courtly  Poets,  note  248. 

2  The  Paradyse  of  Daynty  Devises  \  M.  Edwards,  1576;  ed.  by  Sir 
Egerton  Brydges,  in  British  Bibliographer,  181 2,  p.  ii. 


1 2,^  Religio7is  Thought  in 

Thou  art  my  God  :  to  Thee  alone 

I  will  commend  my  cause  ; 
Not  glittering  gold  nor  precious  stone 
Shall  make  me  leave  Thy  laws. 

O  teach  me  then  the  way, 

Whereby  I  may 

Make  Thee  my  only  stay. 

My  lips,  my  tongue,  my  heart  and  all 

Shall  spread  Thy  mighty  name  : 

My  voice  shall  never  cease  to  sound 

The  praises  of  the  same. 

Yea,  every  living  thing 

Shall  sweetly  sing 

To  Thee,  O  heavenly  King.^ 

An  Easter  Hymn  in  the  same  collection  is  by  Jasper 
Heywood  (1535-98).  He  was  a  Greek  and  Hebrew 
scholar  of  some  note,  and  a  Fellow  first  of  Merton  and 
then  of  All  Souls.  In  1562  he  joined  the  Jesuits,  and 
was  placed  in  1581  at  the  head  of  that  body  in  England. 
The  hymn  in  question  is  of  no  particular  merit,  but  I 
quote  the  last  verse,  which  is  also  the  best : — 

O  man,  arise  with  Christ  therefore, 

Since  he  from  sin  hath  made  thee  free. 
Beware  thou  fall  in  sin  no  more, 

But  rise  as  Christ  did  rise  for  thee. 

So  may'st  thou  Him  in  glory  see, 
When  He  at  day  of  doom  shall  say  : 

Come  thou,  my  child,  and  dwell  with  me. 
God  grant  us  all  to  see  that  glorious  day.- 

Robert  Crowley  (1518-88)  was  a  demy  of  Magdalen 
College  ;  then,  after  occupying  himself  for  a  few  years 
as  a  printer,  he  took  orders,  and  became  a  noted  preacher. 
He  was  a  strong  Puritan,  and,  at  Mary's  accession,  fled 
to  Frankfort.  After  his  return  he  was  made  Prebend 
and  Archdeacon  of  Hereford.  Afterwards  he  was 
Prebend  of  St.  Paul's,  and  Vicar  of  St.  Giles',  Cripple- 
gate.  But  his  strict  and  narrow  opinions,  and  the  zeal 
with  which  he  propagated  them,  soon  brought  him  into 

^  The  Paradyse  of  Daytity  Deru'ses,  p.  o  :  'Conic,  holy  ghost,  eternall 
God,  and  ease  the  wofull  i^rccfe.' 

'  /J.  p.  5  :   'C)  man,  aryse  with  Cliriste  therefore.' 


Old  English  Verse  139 

collision  with  the  Archbishop,  and  he  was  deprived 
and  suspended.  He  was,  at  a  later  date,  Vicar  of 
St  Lawrence  Jewry,  but  soon  resigned.  He  was  an 
unwearied  preacher  of  sermons  and  writer  of  pamphlets, 
and  ever  ready  for  public  disputation  with  his  oppo- 
nents. But  he  was  alsofullof  sympathy  for  the  troubles 
of  the  poor — keen  also  and  bold  in  rebuking  the  abuses 
and  the  vices  of  his  age.  In  1550  he  wrote  a  series  of 
one  and  thirty  vigorous  remonstrances  in  rhyme  against 
the  varied  evils  he  saw  around  him — the  State  plun- 
dering the  Church,  the  rich  plundering  the  poor,  the 
Puritan  taxing  the  Papist  with  idleness,  ignorance,  and 
immorality,  and  anon  letting  in  seven  other  spirits 
worse  than  those  which  had  been  driven  out,  brawlers 
and  drunkards,  usurers  and  forestallers,  flatterers  and 
backbiters,  and  swearers  and  dicers,  and  idle  vagabonds, 
pluralities  in  the  Church,  discommoning  of  open  lands, 
bribery  in  public  offices,  and  so  forth.  In  the  same 
year  he  issued  another  book,  also  in  verse,  in  which  he 
sounded  his  trumpet  of  warning  in  lessons  addressed 
severally  to  magistrates,  gentlemen,  women,  merchants, 
lawyers,  physicians,  learned  men,  scholars,  lewd  priests, 
yeomen,  servants,  and  beggars.  His  appeals  are  vigor- 
ous and  very  earnest,  but  by  no  means  wanting  in 
kindliness.  I  give  an  extract  from  The  Gentlemari  s 
•Lesson.  As  regards  form,  it  has  no  pretence  to  being 
more  than  the  merest  rhyme  : — 

Thou  that  art  born  to  land  and  rent. 

And  art  cleped  a  gentleman, 
Give  ear  to  me,  for  mine  intent 

Is  to  do  the  good  I  can. 

Thou  art  a  man  that  God  hath  set 

To  rule  the  rout  in  thy  country  : 
Wherefore  thou  hadst  need  for  to  get 

Good  knowledge  rather  than  money. 

First  I  advertise  thee  therefore. 

And  require  thee  in  Christ's  name, 
That  of  knowledge  thou  get  thee  store 

And  frame  thy  living  to  the  same. 


140  Religious  Thought  i7i 


Get  thee  knowledge,  I  say,  and  then 
Thou  shalt  perceive  thine  own  degree 

To  be  such  that,  among  all  men, 
Thou  hast  most  need  learned  to  be. 

Thou  shalt  perceive  thou  hast  no  time 
To  spare  and  spend  in  banqueting  ; 

For  though  thou  watch  till  it  be  prime 
Thou  shalt  have  enough  to  doing. 

Thou  shalt  not  find  any  leisure 

To  dice,  to  card,  or  to  revel. 
If  thou  do  once  take  a  pleasure 

In  using  thine  own  calling  well. 

Thy  mind  shall  be  still  ravished 

With  the  desire  to  walk  upright, 
And  to  see  all  vice  punished. 

So  much  as  shall  lie  in  thy  might. 

Thou  shalt  delight  for  to  defend 

The  poor  man  that  is  innocent. 
And  cause  the  wicked  to  amend 

And  the  oppressor  to  repent. 

Thou  shalt  have  delight  in  nothing 

Saving  in  doing  thy  duty  ; 
Which  is,  under  God  and  the  king. 

To  rule  them  that  thou  dost  dwell  by. 

Thou  shalt  not  think  that  thou  mayest  take 

Thy  rent  to  spend  it  at  thy  will, 
As  one  that  should  no  reckoning  make 

For  ought  that  he  doth  well  or  ill.^ 

And  so  he  continues  through  160  lines,  concluding  with 
the  admonition  to  live  night  and  day  in  God's  fear. 

Crowley  also  wrote  a  poem  on  T J le  Last  Judgment^  and 
a  version  of  the  Psalms  of  David. 

I  must  just  mention  Thomas  Tusser's  Hundred  Good 
Points  of  Husba7tdry,  published  in  1557.  It  was  well 
that  a  little  handbook  in  verse,  so  popular  that  it  '  was 
once  probably  in  the  hands  or  committed  to  the  memo- 
ries of  almost  all  the  country  gentlemen,  and  others  con- 

^  Select  Works  of  Robert  Crowley,  ed.  by  J.  M.  Cowper  for  E.E.T.S. 
p.  90 :   *  Thou  that  arte  borne  to  lande  and  rent.' 


Old  English  Verse  141 

nected  with  husbandry,  in  the  kingdom,'  ^  should,  even 
in  the  most  simple  and  unassuming  way,  recognise,  amid 
all  the  routine  of  the  farmer's  life,  the  ruling  hand  of 
God,  and  the  duty  of  thankfulness  to  Him. 

Now  think  upon  God  ;  let  thy  tongue  never  cease 
From  thanking  of  Him  for  His  mighty  increase. ^ 

The  following  lines  are  from  his  poetical  autobio- 
graphy, first  added  to  the  edition  of  1573  of  his  Points 
of  Husbandry : — 

When  all  is  done,  learn  this,  my  son, 
Not  friend  nor  skill,  nor  wit  nor  will, 
Nor  ship  nor  clod,  but  only  God 

Doth  all  in  all. 
Man  taketh  the  pain,  God  giveth  gain  ; 
Man  doth  his  best,  God  doth  the  rest  ; 
Man  well  intends,  God  foizon  [plenty]  sends. 

Else  want  he  shall.^ 

He  was  also  the  author  of  a  Christmas  carol  which 
appears  in  collections. 

The  two  next  extracts  are  from  six  poems,  in  which 
each  verse  ends  with  a  refrain,  given  to  J.  Jegon,  Master 
of  Corpus  Christi  College,  Cambridge,  by  Richard  Cox, 
Bishop  of  Ely,  who  was  born  in  1499,  and  died  in  1581. 
It  is  not  known  who  they  were  written  by. 

SAY-WELL  AND   DO-WELL. 

Say-well,  and  do-well,  they  are  things  twain  ; 
Thrice  happy  is  he  in  whom  both  reign. 

Say-well  is  truly  a  worthy  thing  ; 
Of  say-well  great  goodness  doth  not  forth  spring  : 
Say-well  from  do-well  differeth  a  letter  ; 
Say-well  is  good,  but  do-well  is  better. 
Say-well,  etc. 

Say-well  is  ruled  by  man  some  deal  ; 
Do-well  doth  wholly  to  God  appeal. 

^  Sir  E.  Brydges'  advertisement  to  his  edition  of  A  Hundreth  Good 
Poyntes  of  Husbandry. 

"^  Id.  :  '  Nowe  thihke  upon  God,  let  thy  tonge  neuer  cease.' 
^   Thomas  Tusscr^s  Will  and  Poetical  Autobiography,  1846. 


142  Re ligiotts  Thought  in 

Say-well  saith  goodly,  and  doth  many  please  ; 
Do-well  liveth  godly,  and  doth  the  world  ease. 
Say-well,  etc. 

Say-well  makes  many  to  God's  word  cleave  ; 
WwX.  for  lack  of  do-well  they  quickly  leave. 
If  say- well  and  do- well  were  joined  in  a  frame. 
All  were  won,  all  were  done,  got  were  the  game. 
Say-well,  etc. 

Say-well  in  danger  of  death  is  cold  ; 
Do-well  is  earnest  and  wondrous  bold, 
When  say-well  for  fear  doth  tremble  and  quake, 
Do-well  shall  be  jocund  and  jolly  there  make. 
Say-well,  etc. 

Say-well  is  slipp'ry,  and  winketh  whiles  ; 
Do-well  is  simple,  and  without  guiles. 
Where  say-well  for  shame  shall  hide  his  face, 
Do- well  shall  triumph  in  e\ery  place. 
Say- well,  etc. 

Say-well  to  silence  is  oftentimes  bound  ; 
Do-well  is  free  in  every  stound  [hour]. 
Say-well  hath  friends  but  here  and  there  ; 
Do-well  is  welcome  e\"erywhere. 
Say-well,  etc. 

Say-well  in  hand  doth  many  things  take 
Do-well  an  end  of  them  doth  make. 
Where  say-well  with  many  is  quite  down-cast. 
Do-well  is  trusty,  and  will  stand  fast. 
Say-well,  etc. 

Say-well  himself  will  oft  advance  ; 
Do-well  doth  neither  jet  [strut]  nor  prance, 
Yet  do-well  the  world  doth  profit  more 
Than  say- well  and  his  hundred  store. 
Say-well,  etc. 

Say-well  in  wordes  is  proper  and  trick  [set-oft"], 
Do-well  in  deeds  is  nimble  and  quick  : 
Lord,  trick  and  quick  together  knit, 
So  shall  they  pipe  a  merry  fit. 
Say-well,  etc.'^ 

Richard  Edwards  (1523-66),  Editor  of  the  Paradise 
of  Dainty  Devices,  and  the  chief  contributor  to  it,  wrote 

1  Six  Ballads  with  Burdens,  from  MS.  in  C.  C.  Coll. ,  Cambridge,  ed. 
by  J  as.  Goodwin,  Percy  Society,  1844,  vol.  xiii.  : 
'Say-well  ys  truly  a  worthy  thyng, 
Off  say- well  greatc  goodnes  noth  furth  spryng.' 


Old  English  Verse  143 

some  sacred  poetry  of  a  didactic  strain,  not  very  note- 
worthy, but  with  some  dignity  of  tone,  as  in  the  verses 
which  begin — 

Whoso  will  be  accounted  wise,  and  truly  claim  the  name, 
By  joining  virtue  to  his  deeds  he  must  achieve  the  same.^ 

Edwards  was  a  senior  student  of  Christ  Church,  and 
in  1 561  was  appointed  by  Elizabeth  a  gentleman  of  the 
Royal  Chapel  and  a  Master  of  the  Children  of  the 
Chapel. 

Archbishop  Parker  (1504-75)  may  just  be  mentioned  as 
one  of  that  great  company  of  unsuccessful  translators  of 
the  Psalms  (1560).  His  version  of  the  hundredth  is  a 
singular  one,  for  which  cause  alone  I  quote  it  : — 

0  joy,  all  men  terrestriall  ! 
Rejoyce  in  God  celestiall  ! 

1  byd  not  J  ewes  especiall. 

But  Jewes  and  Greekes  in  generall ; — 

Serve  ye  thy  Lord  heroicall,  • 

With  joy  of  hart  effectuall  ; 

Seke  ye  hys  sight  potentiall 

With  hymnes  of  myrth  most  musicall. 

His  gates  and  courtes  tread  usuall 
With  laudes  and  hymnes  poeticall  ; 
Geve  thankes  to  hym  continuall, 
And  bless  his  name  most  liberall. 

For  why  ?  this  Lord  so  principall 

Is  sweete.  His  grace  perpetuall : 

Hys  truth  of  word  stand  ever  shall 

With  hundreth  thankes  :  thus  ende  we  all.'^ 

Francis  Thynne's  Debate  between  Pride  and  Lowliness 
— a  humorous  tale  with  a  religious  moral  to  it — was 
printed  about  1568.     It  concludes  with  the  epithyme^ 

Who  purposeth  to  liven  virtuose 

In  favour  of  our  God,  let  him  take  keep 

That  Pride  none  office  bears  within  his  house  ; 
For  where  he  doth,  Virtue  is  laid  to  sleep.^ 

^  Paradyse  of  Daynty  Devises,  p.  27  :  *  Whoso  will  be  accompted  wise.* 
-  Corser's  Collectanea  Anglo-Poetica,  vol.  ix.  p.  109. 
^  Francis  Thynne's  Debate,  etc.,  reprinted  for  the  Shakespeare  Society, 
1841,  p.  81. 


144  Religious  Thought  in 

I  extract  the  following  few  lines  on  Prayer  from  The 
SJiippe  of  SafegardCy — an  allegorical  poem  on  the  Life 
of  Man  by  G.  B.,  letters  which  are  supposed  by  Hazle- 
wood  to  stand,  with  initials  reversed,  for  Barnaby  Googe. 
Its  date  is  1569  : — 

A  thousand  happy  hands  may  here  be  seen, 

Held  up  with  heart  unfeigned  unto  the  skies, 

Washed  in  the  waters  of  repentance  clean. 

And  purged  pure  with  tears  of  weeping  eyes  ; 

A  thousand  tongues,  from  minds  that  well  do  mean. 

Yield  up  to  God  their  fervent  suits  and  cries 

At  morning,  noon,  and  night,  continually.^ 

The  following  is  from  A  Gorgious  Gallery  of  Gallant 
Inventions,  edited  by  Thomas  Proctor  in  1578.  He 
himself  largely  contributed  to  that  collection  : — 

Wherefore  I  wish  that  each  degree 
With  lotted  chance  contented  be. 
Let  not  thy  treasure  make  thee  proud 
Nor  poverty  be  disallowed. 
Remember  who  doth  give  and  take  : 
One  God  both  rich  and  poor  doth  make. 
We  nothing  had,  or  ought  shall  have 
To  bear  with  us  unto  our  grave. 
But  virtuous  life,  which  here  we  lead 
On  our  behalf  for  grace  to  plead. 

Therefore,  I  say,  thy  lust  refrain, 

And  seek  not  after  brittle  gain  ; 

But  seek  that  wealth,  the  which  will  last 

When  that  this  mortal  life  is  past. 

In  heaven  is  joy  and  pleasure  still  ; 

The  world  is  vain  and  full  of  ill. 

Use  not  so  ill  thy  worldly  pelf, 

So  that  thou  dost  forget  thyself. 

Live  in  this  world  as  dead  to  sin 

And  die  in  Christ,  true  life  to  win.' 

Nicholas  Breton,  a  somewhat  prolific  writer  of  verse, 
was  an  Oriel  College  man,  a  Roman  Catholic  in  creed. 
He  travelled  much,  and  served  as  a  captain  under  the 

^  Sir  Egerton  Brydges'  British  Bibliography^  ii.  630 :  *  A  thousand 
happie  hands.' 

'•'  From  A  Gallery  ^  etc.,  lieliconia,  ed.  T.  Park:  *  Wherfore  I  wishe 
that  eche  degree.' 


Old  English  Ver^se  145 

Earl  of  Leicester  in  the  Low  Countries.  From  a  hymn 
in  his  Small Handfull  of  Fragant  Flowers  (1575),  comes 
this  aspiration  of  a  Christian  soldier  : — 

Arm  us  with  faith  to  bear  the  shield 

And  sword  of  heavenly  purity  : 
Crown  us  with  helmet  in  the  field 

Of  Thy  surpassing-  verity.^ 

In  his  Pilgrimage  to  Paradise  (i  592),  occur  the  lines  : — 

And  on  they  walk,  until  anon  they  come 
Unto  a  church  not  built  of  lime  or  stone, 

But  that  true  church  of  that  immortal  fame 

That  is  world's  wonder,  and  heaven's  love  alone, — 

Whose  head  is  Christ,  whose  martyrs  are  His  pillars  ; 

All  of  whose  members  are  His  word's  well-willers.^ 

In  the  earlier  part  of  Elizabeth's  reign  religious 
verses  were  printed  broadside,  as  sacred  ballads,  to  be 
sung  to  bright  tunes.  This  is  from  one  headed  Songe 
of  the  Lambe^s  Feast^  printed  1576: 

I  heard  one  say, 
'  Come  now  away. 
Make  no  delay  ; 

Alack  !  why  stand  ye  than  ?  [then 
All  is  doubtless 
In  readiness  ; 

There  wants  but  gesse  [guests] 
To  the  Supper  of  the  Lamb. 
For  He 's  now  blest 

In  very  deed. 
That 's  found  a  guest 
In  marriage  weed.'^ 

Thomas  Becon  (151 1-70)  was  among  the  most  popular 
of  the  Reformers.  He  was  chaplain  to  Archbishop 
Cranmer.  During  the  reign  of  Mary  he  took  refuge  in 
the  Continent.  After  her  death  he  returned  and  was 
rector  of  Bucklands,  in  Herefordshire,  and  prebend  of 

^  A  Small  Handfull,  etc. ;  Heliconia,  i.  20. 
2  Corser's  Collectanea  Anglo  Poetica,  iii.  2. 
•'  Id.  ii.  130  : 

I  hearde  one  say 

Come  now  away. 
K 


146  Religious  Thought  in 

Canterbury.  I  quote  a  few  verses  from  A  Newe 
Dialoge  betwene  the  A  ngel  of  God  and  ye  Shepherds  of 
ye  Felde : — 

This  Child  alone, 
Sent  from  God's  throne 
All  kind  of  moan 

Shall  put  away. 
Whoso  embrace 
His  loving  face 
Shall  want  no  grace, 

Nor  yet  decay. 

He  is  the  King, 
To  whose  bidding 
Every  thing 

Obeyeth  humbly. 
He  is  the  Lord, 
By  whose  concord 
All  things  restored 

Shall  be  plainly. 

He  is  the  Peace, 
Which  shall  release 
All  our  disease 

And  grievous  pain. 
He  is  the  Stay, 
He  is  the  Way, 
By  whom  we  may 

Glory  attain. 

He  is  the  Light, 
That  is  so  bright 
In  all  men's  sight 
To  show  the  way. 
He  is  the  Rock. 
If  that  we  knock 
He  will  unlock. 
And  help  us  aye.^ 

George  Gascoigne,  son  of  Sir  G.  Gascoigne,  served 
with  distinction  under  the  command  of  the  Prince  of 
Orange  in  1572.  The  year  after,  he  accompanied 
Queen  Elizabeth  on  one  of  her  state  progresses,  and 
wrote  one  of  the   masques   celebrated   in  her  honour. 

1  Corser's  Collectanea  Anglo- Poetua,  ii.  239  :     '  This  chylde  alone.' 


Old  E^tglish  Verse  147 

He  died  in  1577.  Among  his  religions  poems  his 
Good-Morrow  and  Good-Night  are  both  pretty.  In  the 
former  there  is  a  fresh  brightness  Hke  the  air  of  a 
summer  morning.     I  quote  a  few  verses  : — 

You  that  have  spent  the  silent  night 

In  sleep  and  quiet  rest, 
And  joy  to  see  the  cheerful  light 

That  riseth  in  the  east  : 
Now  clear  your  voice  ;  now  cheer  your  heart  ; 

Come,  help  me  now  to  sing  : 
Each  willing  wight  come  bear  a  part 

To  praise  the  heavenly  King. 

Then,  after,  comparing  the  night  to  the  night  of  death  : 

Yet  as  this  deadly  night  did  last 

But  for  a  little  space, 
And  heavenly  day,  now  night  is  past. 

Doth  show  her  pleasant  face  : 
So  must  we  hope  to  see  God's  face 

At  last  in  heaven  on  high, 
When  we  have  changed  this  mortal  place 

For  immortality. 

And  of  such  hope  and  heavenly  joys 

As  then  we  hope  to  hold. 
All  earthly  sights  and  worldly  toys 

Be  tokens  to  behold. 
The  day  is  like  the  day  of  doom, 

The  sun,  the  Son  of  man, 
The  sky 's  the  heavens,  the  earth  the  tomb 

Wherein  we  rest  till  then. 

The  rainbow  bending  in  the  sky, 

Bedecked  with  sundry  hues, 
Is  like  the  seal  of  God  on  high 

And  seems  to  tell  these  news  : 
That  as  thereby  He  promised 

To  drown  the  world  no  more, 
So  by  the  blood  which  Christ  hath  shed 

He  will  our  health  restore. 

The  misty  clouds  that  fall  sometime 

And  overcast  the  skies, 
Are  like  to  troubles  of  our  time 

Which  do  but  dim  our  eyes. 


148  Religious  Thought  in 

But  as  such  dews  are  dried  up  quite 

When  Phoebus  shows  his  face, 
So  are  such  fancies  put  to  flight 

Where  God  doth  guide  by  grace 

The  little  birds  which  sing  so  sweet 

Are  like  the  angels'  voice 
Which  render  God  His  praises  meet. 

And  teach  us  to  rejoice. 

His  Good-Night  begins  thus  : — 

When  thou  hast  spent  the  lingering  day  in  pleasure  and  delight 
Or  after  tost  and  weary  way,  dost  seek  to  rest  at  night ; 
Unto  thy  pains  and  pleasures  past  add  this  one  labour  yet — 
Ere  sleep  close  up  thine  eyes  to  rest,  do  not  thy  God  forget. 
But  search  within  thy  secret  thoughts  what  deeds  did  thee  befall  ■ 
And  if  thou  find  amiss  in  aught,  to  God  for  mercy  call. 

Sir  Philip  Sydney  (1554-86)  contributed  to  the  sacred 
verse  of  the  Elizabethan  age.  In  an  age  when  religious 
and  poetical  feeling  were  alike  full  of  movement,  his 
ardent,  sensitive  genius,  ever  eager  to  take  an  active 
part,  intellectual,  emotional,  and  physical,  in  the  stir  of 
life  around  him,  could  scarcely  fail  to  give  vent  in 
song  to  the  spiritual  impulses  of  his  nature.  If  he 
had  not  died  so  young,  it  is  very  likely  that  he  might 
in  later  years  have  taken  a  more  leading  place  among 
Christian  poets.  The  following  is  the  concluding- 
sonnet  of  the  passionate  struggle  between  love  and 
duty  which  finds  expression  in  his  Astrophel  and 
Stella : — 

ex.— ASPIRE  TO  HIGHER  THINGS. 

Leave  me,  O  Love,  which  reachest  but  to  dust  ; 
And  thou,  my  mind,  aspire  to  higher  things  ; 
Grow  rich  in  that  which  never  taketh  rust  ; 
Whatever  fades  but  fading  pleasure  brings. 
Draw  in  thy  beams,  and  humble  all  thy  might 
To  that  sweet  yoke  where  lasting  freedoms  be  ; 
Which  breaks  the  clouds  and  opens  forth  the  light 
That  doth  both  shine  and  give  us  sight  to  see. 
O  take  fast  hold  ;  let  that  light  be  thy  guide 
In  this  small  course  which  birth  draws  out  to  death. 
And  think  how  ill  becometh  him  to  slide, 
Who  seeketh  heaven,  and  comes  of  heavenly  breath. 


Old  English  Verse  149 

Then  farewell,  world  !  thy  uttermost  I  see 
Eternal  Love,  maintain  Thy  life  in  me. 
Splendidis  longum  valedico  nugis} 

Sydney's  Translation  of  the  Psalms  was  finished  by 
his  sister,  the  Countess  of  Pembroke.  It  was  thought, 
until  recently,  impossible  to  distinguish  her  portion  of 
them,  but  there  is  now  evidence  of  some  weight  that  it 
begins  with  the  forty-fourth  Psalm.  I  quote  from  the 
part  which  is  reasonably  ascribed  to  Sydney. 

From  Psalm  xvi. : — 

Save  me,  Lord,  for  why  ?  Thou  art 
All  the  hope  of  all  my  heart : 

Witness  thou,  my  soul  with  me. 
That  to  God,  my  God,  I  say, — 
Thou,  my  Lord,  Thou  art  my  stay, 

Though  my  works  reach  not  to  Thee. 

God  my  only  portion  is. 

And  of  my  childs-part  the  bliss  : 

He  then  shall  maintain  my  lot. 
Say  then,  is  not  my  lot  found 
In  a  goodly  pleasant  ground  ? 

Have  not  I  fair  partage  got  ? 

Ever,  Lord,  I  will  bless  Thee, 
Who  dost  ever  counsel  me  ; 

E'en  when  night  with  his  black  wing 
Sleepy  darkness  does  o'ercast. 
In  my  inward  reins  I  taste 

Of  my  faults  a  chastening. 

My  eyes  still  my  God  regard, 

And  He  my  right  hand  doth  guard  ; 

So  can  I  not  be  opprest, 
So  my  heart  is  fully  glad. 
So  my  joy  in  glory  clad. 

Yea,  my  flesh  in  hope  shall  rest. 

For  I  know  the  deadly  grave 
On  my  soul  no  power  shall  have  ; 

For  I  know  Thou  wilt  defend 
Even  the  body  of  Thine  own 
Dear,  beloved,  holy  one 

From  a  foul  corrupting  end. 

^  Sir  Philip  Sydney's  Works,  vol.  i.  147,  ed.  by  Grosart. 


I  50  Religious  Thought  in 

Thou  life's  path  wilt  Jiiake  me  know- 
In  whose  view  with  plenty  grow 

All  delights  that  souls  can  crave  ; 
And  whose  bodies  placed  stand 
On  Thy  blessed-making  hand  ; 

They  all  pleasures  endless  have.' 

From  Psalm  xliii. : — 

Send  Thy  truth  and  light, 

Let  them  guide  me  right 
From  the  paths  of  folly, 

Bringing  me  to  Thy 

Tabernacles  high 
In  Thy  hill  most  holy. 

To  God's  altars  tho  (then) 

I  will  boldly  go, 
Shaking  off  all  sadness  ; 

To  that  God  that  is 

God  of  all  my  bliss, 
God  of  all  my  gladness. 

Then  lo,  then  I  will 

With  sweet  music's  skill 
Grateful  meaning  show  Thee. 

Then  God,  yea,  my  God, 

I  will  sing  abroad 
What  great  thanks  I  owe  Thee. 

Why  art  thou,  my  soul, 

Cast  down  in  such  dole  .'* 
What  ails  thy  discomfort  ? 

Wait  on  God^  for  still 

Thank  my  God  I  will, 
My  only  aid  and  comfort.^ 

From   the   Countess  of  Pembroke's    Psalms   I   may- 
quote  a  part  of  the  ninety-fifth  : — 

Come,  come  let  us  with  joyful  voice 
Record  and  raise 
Jehovah's  praise  : 
Come,  let  us  in  our  safety's  rock  rejoice. 
Into  His  presence  let  us  go, 
And  there  with  psalms  our  gladness  show, 

'  Sir  Philip  Sydney's  Works ,  iii.  113  : 

Save  me,  Lord,  for  why,  Thou  art 

AH  the  hope  of  all  my  heart. 
-  Id.  iii.  198. 


Old  English  Verse  151 

For  He  is  God,  a  God  most  great 
Above  all  gods,  a  King  in  kingly  seat. 

What  lowest  lies  in  earthy  mass, 
What  highest  stands, 
Stands  in  His  hand  : 
The  sea  is  His,  and  He  the  sea-wright  was. 
He  made  the  sea.  He  made  the  shore  : 
Come  let  us  fall,  let  us  adore  : 
Come  let  us  kneel  with  awful  grace 
Before  the  Lord,  the  Lord  our  Maker's  face. 

He  is  our  God,  He  doth  us  keep  : 
We  by  Him  led. 
And  by  Him  fed. 
His  people  are  ;  we  are  his  pasture  sheep. 
To-day  if  He  some  speech  will  use. 
Do  not,  O  do  not  you  refuse 
With  hardened  hearts  His  voice  to  hear. 
As  Massa  now,  or  Meribah  it  were.^ 

Speaking  generally  of  this  version  of  the  Psalms  by 
Sir  Philip  Sydney  and  his  sister,  it  seems  to  me  nearly^ 
if  not  quite,  the  best  and  most  readable  of  any  com- 
plete rendering  in  English  verse. 

Humphrey  Gifford's  Posie  of  Gilloflowers  was  pub- 
lished about  1580.  Very  little  is  known  of  him  except 
that  he  was  connected  by  marriage  with  the  ancient 
family  of  the  Copes,  that  in  some  manner  he  'served' 
Edward  Cope  of  Eydon,  and  that  he  had  convenient 
leisure  among  his  books,  '  with  which  exercise,'  says  he, 
*  of  all  earthly  recreations  I  am  most  delighted.'  From 
his  poems,  I  select  one  of  much  merit,  In  Praise  of  the 
Contented  Minde : — 

If  all  the  joys  that  worldly  wights  possess, 
Were  throughly  scann'd,  and  ponder'd  in  their  kinds. 

No  man  of  wit,  but  justly  must  confess 

That  they  joy  most  that  have  contented  minds ; 

And  other  joys  which  bear  the  name  of  joys 

Are  not  right  joys,  but  sunshines  of  annoys. 


^   The  Fsalms  of  David,  etc.,  by  Sir  Philip  Sydney,  and  finished  by  the 
Countess  of  Pembroke,  his  sister,  1823  :  '  Come,  come  lett  us  with  joyfull 


I  5  2  Religioiis  Thought  in 

In  outward  view  we  see  a  number  glad, 

Which  make  a  show,  as  if  mirth  did  abound, 

When  pinching  grief  within  doth  make  them  sad ; 
And  many  a  one  in  these  days  may  be  had. 

Which  faintly  smile,  to  shroud  their  sorrows  so, 

When  oftentimes  they  pine  in  secret  woe. 

But  every  man  that  holds  himself  content, 
And  yields  God  thanks,  as  duty  doth  require. 

For  all  the  goods  that  He  to  us  hath  sent. 
And  is  not  vexed  with  over  great  desire ; 

All  such,  I  say,  most  quietly  do  sleep, 

When  fretting  cares  do  others  waking  keep. 

What  doth  avail  huge  heaps  of  shining  gold, 
Or  gay  attire,  or  stately  buildings  brave. 

If  worldly  pomp  thy  heart  in  bondage  hold? 
Not  thou  thy  goods,  thy  goods  make  thee  their  slave  ; 

For  greedy  men  like  Tantalus  do  fare ; 

In  midst  of  wealth  they  needy  are  and  bare. 

A  wary  heed  that  things  go  not  to  loss. 
Doth  not  amiss,  so  that  it  keeps  the  mean  : 

liut  still  to  toil  and  moil  for  worldly  dross. 
And  taste  no  joy  nor  pleasure  for  our  pains — 

In  cark  and  care  both  day  and  night  to  dwell. 

Is  nothing  else  but  even  a  very  hell. 

Wherefore  I  say,  as  erst  I  did  begin, 
Contented  men  enjoy  the  greatest  bliss ; 

Let  us  content  ourselves  to  fly  from  sin. 
And  still  abide  what  God's  good  pleasure  is. 

If  joy  or  pain,  if  wealth  or  want  befall, 

Let  us  be  pleased,  and  give  God  thanks  for  all.' 

I  must  add  a  few  lines,  from  his  Complaynt  of  a 
Sinner,  on  the  world-long  struggle  between  the  spirit 
and  the  flesh: — 

Ah  me  !  when  that  some  good  desire 

Would  move  me  to  do  well, 
Affection  fond  makes  me  retire, 

And  cause  me  to  rebel. 
1  wake,  yet  am  asleep, 

I  see,  yet  still  am  blind ; 
In  ill  I  run  with  headlong  race, 

In  good  I  come  behind, 

^  H.  Gifford's  Posie  of  Gilloflwers  in  Al.  Grosart's  Miscellanies,  vol.  i.: 
'  J  fall  the  joyes  that  worldly  wightes  possesse.' 


Old  English  Verse  153 

Lo,  thus  in  life  I  daily  die, 

And  dying  shall  not  live, 
Unless  Thy  mercy  speedily 

Some  succour  to  me  give. 

The  following  is  from  William  Byrd's  Psalms^  Son- 
nets, and  Songs  (1588) — 

Care  for  thy  soul  as  thing  of  greatest  price, 
Made  to  the  end  to  taste  of  power  divine, 

Devoid  of  guilt,  abhorring  sin  and  vice, 
Apt  by  God's  grace  to  virtue  to  incline  : 

Care  for  it  so  that  by  thy  reckless  train 

It  be  not  brought  to  taste  eternal  pain. 

Care  for  thy  soul  as  for  thy  chiefest  stay ; 

Care  for  thy  body  for  the  soul's  avail : 
Care  for  the  world  for  body's  help  alway ; 

Care  yet  but  so  as  virtue  may  prevail : 
Care  in  such  sort  as  thou  beware  of  this — 
Care  keep  thee  not  from  heaven  and  heavenly  bliss.^ 

Thomas  Churchyard  {c,  15 20- 1604)  was  author  of  a 
number  of  poems  of  no  very  superlative  character.  The 
following  stanza  from  Churchyardes  Chippes  rises  above 
his  ordinary  level : — 

Here  is  no  home  nor  harbouring  house. 

But  cabins  built  on  sand. 
That  every  pirrie  [gust]  puffeth  down, 

Or  still  on  props  do  stand. 
Our  fathers'  spirits  pass  in  peace 

The  country  that  we  crave. 
But  we  are  strangers  far  from  home 

That  nothing  certain  have.^ 

Spenser's /^^^rj'  Queen  (1590)  is  a  religious  poem  in  a 
very  noble  sense,  as  representing  a  pure  and  beautiful 
ideal  of  the  Christian  character.  *  I  labour,'  he  says,  in 
his  preface  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  to  portray  the  image 
of  a  brave  knight,  perfected  in  the  twelve  moral  virtues, 

^  More  Lyrics  from  Elizabethan  Song-Books^  edited  by  A.  H.  Bullen, 
1888,  p.  16. 

2  Churchyarde's  Chippes,  by  Thomas  Churchyard,  Gentilman,  1573  ; 
edited  by  J.  P.  Collier,  p.  74: 

Here  is  no  home  nor  harboring  house, 
But  cabbens  built  on  sande. 


154  Religiozis  Thotcght  in 

.  .  .  'to  fashion  a  gentleman  or  noble  person  in  virtuous 
and  gentle  discipline,'  .  .  .  clad  in  'the  armour  of  a 
Christian  man  specified  by  St.  Paul.'  He  has  carried 
out  his  aim  in  no  narrow  sense,  and  is  always  careful 
never  to  dwell  so  far  disproportionately  upon  any  one 
moral  virtue  as  in  any  way  to  overcloud  the  high  con- 
ception of  truth  and  holiness,  which  is  the  general 
principle  of  all.  There  is  throughout  a  very  pure  and 
delicate  sense  of  earnest  religion,  in  union  with  beaut}^ 
honour,  and  chivalry.  A  modern  can  scarcely  fail  to 
regret  that  the  poem  is  cast  in  an  allegorical  form.  He 
himself  speaks  in  his  preface  of  allegory  as  a  'dark 
conceit,'  and  acknowledges  '  how  doubtfully  all  alle- 
gories may  be  construed.'  But  whereas  his  age  de- 
lighted in  allegory,  ours  shrinks  from  it.  However 
much  a  modern  reader  may  admire  and  appreciate  the 
great  beauties  of  Spenser's  chief  poem,  there  are  few 
who  can  persist  without  real  weariness  in  a  continuous 
perusal  of  it. 

The  very  first  stanzas  of  the  Faery  Queene  give  the 
key-note  of  the  lofty  religious  idea  which  pervades  the 
whole.  They  tell  of  the  knight,  bound  on  great  ad- 
venture, and  clad  in  mighty  arms  which  bore  the  old 
dints  of  many  a  hard-fought  field  : 

And  on  his  breast  a  bloody  cross  he  bore, 

The  dear  remembrance  of  his  dying  Lord, 

For  whose  sweet  sake  that  glorious  badge  he  bore. 

And  dead,  as  living,  ever  Him  adored; 

Upon  his  shield  the  like  was  also  scored. 

For  sovereign  hope  which  in  His  help  he  had. 

Right,  faithful,  true  He  was  in  deed  and  word. 

Nor  was  the  lady  who  rode  by  his  side  less  worthy  of 
men's  honour.     By  her  was  a  milk-white  lamb,  and 

So  pure  and  innocent  as  that  same  lamb 
She  was  in  life  and  every  virtuous  lore. 

But  my  limits  preclude  any  attempt  to  follow  out  the 
religious  and  moral  purpose  of  the  poem,  and  I  must 
merely  give  a  few  short  extracts  in  specific  points. 

Of  the  interconnection  of  all  Christian  virtues  : — 


Old  English  Verse  1 5  5 

O  goodly  golden  chain,  wherewith  y-fere  [together], 
The  virtues  linked  are  in  lovely  wise, 
And  noble  minds  of  yore  allied  were 
In  brave  pursuit  of  chivalrous  emprise  ! 

Of  the  vanity  of  trusting  on  mere  human  strength  in 
our  spiritual  warfare  : — 

What  man  is  he  that  boasts  of  fleshly  might, 
And  vain  assurance  of  mortality  ? 
Which  all  so  soon  as  it  doth  come  to  fight 
Against  spiritual  foes  yields  by  and  bye, 
Or  from  the  field  most  cowardly  doth  fly. 
Nor  let  the  man  ascribe  it  to  his  skill, 
That  thorough  grace  hath  gained  the  victory  : 
If  any  strength  we  have,  it  is  to  ill ; 
But  all  the  good  is  God's,  both  power  and  eke  will. 

Of  ministering  angels  : — 

How  oft  do  they  their  silver  bowers  leave 
To  come  to  succour  us  that  succour  want ! 
How  oft  do  they  with  golden  pinions  cleave 
The  flitting  skies,  like  flying  pursuivant. 
Against  foul  fiends  to  help  us  militant ! 
They  for  us  fight,  they  watch  and  duly  ward. 
And  their  bright  squadrons  round  about  us  plant  ; 
And  all  for  love  and  nothing  for  reward : 
O  why  should  heavenly  God  to  men  have  such  regard  ? 

From  his  Hymn  of  Love  : — 

For  Love  is  lord  of  Truth  and  Loyalty, 
Lifting  himself  out  of  the  lowly  dust, 
On  golden  plumes  up  to  the  purest  sky. 

Ah  me,  dear  Lord !  that  ever  I  might  hope, 

For  all  the  pains  and  woes  that  I  endure, 

To  come  at  length  unto  the  wished-for  scope 

Of  my  desire,  or  might  myself  assure 

That  happy  port  for  ever  to  recure. 

Then  would  I  think  these  pains  no  pains  at  all, 

And  all  my  woes  to  be  but  penance  small. 

Then  would  I  sing  of  Thine  immortal  praise 
An  heavenly  hymn,  such  as  the  angels  sing, 
And  Thy  triumphant  name  then  would  I  raise 
Bove  all  the  gods,  Thee  only  honouring. 
My  Guide,  my  God,  my  Victor,  and  my  King ; 
Till  then,  dread  Lord,  vouchsafe  to  take  of  me 
This  simple  song,  thus  framed  in  praise  of  Thee. 


156  Religious  Thought  hi 

Spenser's  noble  Hymn  of  Heavenly  Love  is  beautiful 
from  beginning  to  end.  But  it  is  nearly  three  hundred 
lines  in  length,  and  1  must  be  content  to  quote  three 
stanzas  near  the  end.  He  has  just  recited  the  story  of 
our  Saviour's  life  and  death : — 

Then  let  thy  flinty  heart,  that  feels  no  pain, 

Empierc^d  be  with  pitiful  remorse. 

And  let  thy  bowels  bleed  in  every  vein 

At  sight  of  His  most  sacred  heavenly  corse 

So  torn  and  mangled  with  malicious  force  ; 

And  let  thy  soul,  whose  sins  His  sorrows  wrought 

Melt  into  tears,  and  groan  in  grieved  thought. 

With  sense  thereof  whilst  so  thy  softened  spirit 
Is  inly  touched,  and  humbled  with  meek  zeal 
Through  meditation  of  His  endless  merit, 
Lift  up  thy  mind  to  th'  author  of  thy  weal, 
And  to  His  sovereign  mercy  do  appeal  ; 
Learn  Him  to  love,  that  loved  thee  so  dear, 
And  in  thy  breast  His  blessed  image  bear. 

Then  shall  thy  ravished  soul  inspired  be 
With  heavenly  thoughts,  far  above  human  skill, 
And  thy  bright  radiant  eyes  shall  plainly  see 
The  idea  of  His  pure  glory  present  still 
Before  thy  face,  that  all  thy  spirit  shall  fill 
With  sweet  enragement  of  celestial  love 
Kindled  through  sight  of  those  fair  things  above. 

A   SONNET   FOR   EASTER   DAY   OR   SUNDAY. 

Most  glorious  Lord  of  Life  !  that  on  this  day 

Didst  make  Thy  triumph  over  death  and  sin, 

And,  having  harrowed  hell,  didst  bring  away 

Captivity  thence  captive,  us  to  win  : 

This  joyous  day,  dear  Lord,  with  joy  begin  ; 

And  grant  that  we,  for  whom  Thou  diddest  die. 

Being  with  Thy  dear  blood  clean  washed  from  sin, 

May  live  for  ever  in  felicity  I 

And  that  Thy  love  we  weighing  worthily 

May  likewise  love  Thee  for  the  same  again  ; 

And  for  Thy  sake,  that  all  like  dear  didst  buy, 

With  love  may  one  another  entertain. 

So  let  us  love,  dear  Love,  like  as  we  ought  : 

Love  is  the  lesson  which  the  Lord  us  taught. 

Although    the    plays    of    Shakespeare    (i  566-1616) 
abound  in   passages  rich  in  pure  and  lofty  sentiment, 


Old  English  Verse  157 

it  can  scarcely  be  said  that  they  contain  anything 
which  could  be  ranked  as  sacred  poetry  in  the  more 
limited  sense  of  the  term.  Under  such  a  restriction 
his  1 66th  Sonnet  might  still  be  quoted  : 

Poor  soul,  the  centre  of  my  sinful  earth, 

Fooled  by  those  rebel  powers  that  thee  array, 
Why  dost  thou  pine  within,  and  suffer  dearth. 

Painting  thy  outward  walls  so  costly  gay  ? 
Why  so  large  cost,  having  so  short  a  lease. 

Dost  thou  upon  thy  fading  mansion  spend  ? 
Shall  worms,  inheritors  of  this  excess, 

Eat  up  thy  charge  ?  is  this  thy  body's  end  ? 
Then,  soul,  live  thou  upon  thy  servant's  loss 

And  let  that  pine,  to  aggravate  thy  store  ; 
Buy  terms  divine  in  selling  hours  of  dross  ; 

Within  be  fed,  without  be  rich  no  more  : 
So  shalt  thou  feed  on  Death,  that  feeds  on  men. 
And  Death  once  dead,  there 's  no  more  dying  then. 

Characters  of  all  kinds  were  naturally  and  truly  con- 
ceived by  the  multitudinous  genius  of  the  great 
dramatist.  But  he  has  held  aloof  from  the  deeper 
springs  of  Christian  feelings,  as  if  in  a  spirit  of  reserve 
and  reverence  for  mysteries  which  he  would  in  no  ac- 
count profane  or  dishonour,  but  which  he  could  only 
faintly  appreciate.  Therefore  he  does  but  touch  slightly 
upon  truths  of  religion,  and  passes  on, — for  example  : 

Alas  !  alas  ! 
Why  all  the  souls  that  were,  were  forfeiture  ; 
And  He  that  might  the  vantage  best  have  took 
Found  out  the  remedy.     How  would  you  be. 
If  He,  which  is  the  top  of  judgment,  should 
But  judge  you  as  you  are  ? 

The  finest  passages  of  a  semi-religious  character  to  be 
found  in  Shakespeare  are  such  as  have  to  do  either  with 
Christian  practice  or  with  a  very  general  and  undefined 
religious  emotion.  Both  might  be  illustrated  from  the 
Merchajit  of  Venice  ;  the  one  those  noble  words  on 
mercy  put  into  the  mouth  of  Portia  ;  the  other  where 
Lorenzo  says  : 

Look  how  the  floor  of  heaven 
Is  thick  inlaid  with  patines  of  bright  gold  ; 
There  's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  beholdest. 


158  ReligtoiLS  Thought  in 

But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  quiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubims  : 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls  ; 
But  while  this  mouldy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it. 

A  brief  mention  may  here  be  made, — but  more  for 
the  sake  of  the  form  than  of  the  matter, — of  the  Psalms 
in  English  hexameters,  published  in  1591  by  Abraham 
Fraunce,  a  barrister,  who  enjoyed  the  high  esteem  and 
friendship  of  Sir  Philip  Sydney.  Although  these  early 
efforts  to  naturalise  in  our  tongue  the  Latin  metre  are 
rather  uncouth,  they  are  not  void  of  a  certain  graphic 
force.  We  are  told  that  Spenser  was  interested  in 
these  experiments  of  Fraunce  and  Gabriel  Harvey,  and 
was  at  one  time  inclined  himself  to  try  them.  The 
reader  may  be  interested  in  an  example  of  some  lines 
from  this  curious  version.  I  take  a  passage  from  the 
middle  of  the  104th  Psalm  : — 

Night-enlightening  moon  for  certain  times  is  appointed, 
And  all-seeing  sun  knows  his  due  time  to  be  setting. 
Sun  once  so  setting,  dark  night  wraps  all  in  a  mantle, 
All  in  a  black  mantle  :  then  beasts  creep  out  fro'  the  dungeons  ; 
Roaring  hungry  lions  their  prey,  with  greedy  devouring, 
Claws  and  jaws,  attend,  but  by  God's  only  appointment  : 
When  Sun  riseth  again,  their  dens  they  quickly  recover, 
And  there  couch  all  day  :  that  man  may  safely  the  day-time 
His  day's  work  apply,  till  day  give  way  to  the  darkness. 

O  good  God,  wise  Lord,  good  Lord,  and  only  the  wise  God, 
Earth  sets  forth  Thy  works,  earth-dwellers  all  be  Thy  wonders. 
So  be  seas  also,  great  seas,  full  fraught  with  abundant 
Swarms  of  creeping  things,  great,  small  :  there  ships  be  a- 

sailing. 
And  there  lies  tumbling  that  monstrous  huge  leviathan. 
All  these  beg  their  food,  and  all  these  on  Thee  be  waiting.^ 

Fraunce  also  wrote  in  hexameters  the  story  of  Christ's 
life  and  death,  in  a  poem  called  Emmanuel. 

Henry  Lok  (Loke  or  Locke)  has  left  some  three  or 
four  hundred  Sonnets  of  Christian  Passions,  etc.,  pub- 
lished in   1593-7.     Although,  from   a  poetical  point  of 


^   Cerlaine  Psalmes,  etc. ,  by  Abraham  Fraunce,  in  Grosart's  Miscellanies, 
vol.  iii.  :  '  Night  enlightning  moone  for  certaine  tymes  is  apoynted.' 


Old  English  Verse  159 

view,  they  are  not  of  a  very  high  order,  there  are  some 
which  are  much  above  the  level  of  the  rest,  and  the 
varied  and  deep  religious  feeling  which  throbs  in  them 
is  sufficient  of  itself  to  give  them  an  honourable  place 
in  the  religious  poetry  of  their  age.  Henry  Lok  was  the 
son  of  a  London  merchant,  and  was  employed  in  the 
service  of  the  State  in  various  secret  and  perilous  mis- 
sions on  the  European  continent  and  in  the  East.  He 
appears  to  have  passed  through  a  good  deal  of  trouble, 
and,  in  his  later  years,  to  have  fallen  into  embarrassment 
and  poverty.     I  quote  three  of  the  Sonnets  : 

SONNET   XIV.    P.    I. 

Behold,  O  Lord,  a  tree  by  highway  side 

Unfruitful  yet  of  any  good  for  Thee. 
In  highway  side  as  yet  I  do  abide, 

Where  passers  to  Jerusalem  I  see  ; 

Though  Summer  grow,  I  cannot  fruitful  be, 
Unplanted  by  Thy  grace  in  garden  Thine  : 

I  do  confess  I  am  a  wild  fig-tree 
For  want  of  moisture  which  am  like  to  pine. 
Unto  my  prayers,  Lord,  do  Thou  incline  ; 

Remove  me  home  into  Thy  garden  fair. 
Let  me  behold  the  face  of  Thy  sunshine. 

Which  may  my  withered  leaves  with  life  repair  : 
So  mayst  Thou  taste  a  fruit  of  wholesome  kind, 
And  leave  a  mark  of  mercy  great  behind.^ 

SONNET  XXXV.    P.    2. 

O  heavenly  Love,  with  God  thou  dwell'st  for  aye. 

Thou  passest  faith  and  hope  in  dignity  ; 
Thou  keep'st  the  law,  thy  feet  step  not  awry. 

In  all  men's  danger  thou  the  surest  stay  ; 

To  our  request  thou  never  sayest  nay. 
Ne  wrath,  ne  envy,  move  thee  e'er  a  whit, 
Thou  multitude  of  sins  in  man  dost  quit. 

Thou  Law  and  Gospel  both  doth  over-sway. 


^  Suiidrie  Sonnets  of  Christian  Passiojis,  by  Henry  Lok,  in  Grosart's 
ed.  of  Fuller's  Miscellanies : 

Behold,  O  Lord,  a  tree  by  high  way  side, 
Unfrutefull  yet  of  any  good  for  Thee. 


i6o  Religiotts  Thought  in 

Thou  dost  with  God  aloft  in  honour  sit  : 
With  God  in  counsel  thou  art  always  by  ; 
Thou  causest  Christ  man's  weakness  to  supply, 

And  makest  us  receive  the  fruit  of  it. 

And  every  whit  of  goodness  that  we  have 

Love  made  Him  send,  who  love  therefore  doth  crave. ^ 

SONNET   LXIX.    P.  II. 

Why  should  he  faint,  or  think  his  burden  great, 

That  hath  a  partner  to  support  the  same  ? 

Why  coward-like  should  he  his  honour  shame, 
That  hath  a  champion  ready  at  intreat. 
Who  can  and  doth  death  and  confusion  threat 

To  all  impediments  which  stop  our  way  ? 

On  whom  repose  our  trust  we  boldly  may, 
He  being  judge,  and  placed  in  mercy's  seat  ? 

He  sees  our  thoughts,  and  knows  what  we  would  say 
He  doth  our  mouth  to  fit  petition  frame  ; 
He  hides  our  errors  if  our  faith  be  lame, 

And  He  Himself  doth  also  for  us  pray. 
We  need  but  stay,  and  trust  to  His  good  will, 
And  we  are  sure  He  will  our  wants  fulfil.* 

Robert  Southwell  (1561-95)  is  well  known  by  name 
as  one  of  the  Jesuit  Fathers  who  were  cruelly  executed 
in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  His  long  imprisonment,  his 
tortures,  and  ultimate  death  were  justified  to  the  Pro- 
testants of  that  age  on  political  grounds.  But,  at  all 
events,  he  endured  all  his  sufferings  in  the  true  spirit  of 
a  Christian  martyr.  He  was  the  son  of  an  honourable 
Nottinghamshire  family.  He  seems  to  have  been  a 
thoroughly  good  man,  and  is  spoken  in  a  letter  of  1588 
as  '  at  once  prudent,  pious,  meek,  and  exceedingly  win- 
ning.' The  example  of  Ignatius  Loyola,  who  had  died 
only  four  or  five  years  before  his  birth,  had  filled  him 
with  a  passionate  fervour  of  religion.  It  was  at  his 
own  earnest  request  that  he  was  sent  on  a  religious 
mission  to  England,  at  just  the  time  when  English  feel- 
ing was  exasperated  to  its  utmost  pitch  against  Roman 
Catholics,  and  when  a  detected  Jesuit  was  almost 
certain  to  incur  the  penalties  of  high  treason, 

^  Sundrie  Sonnets^  etc.,  by  Henry  Lok  :  O  heavenly  love,  with  God 
Thou  dwelst  for  aye. 

2  Id.  :   *  Why  should  he  faint  or  thinke  his  burden  great  ?  ' 


Old  English  Verse  i6i 

Some  of  his  poems  were  written  in  prison,  but  most 
of  them  at  an  earlier  date.  The  longest  of  them, 
St.  Peter's  Complaint, — a  soliloquy  expressive  of  the 
Apostle's  deep  contrition  at  having  denied  his  Lord — 
cannot  exactly  be  said  to  be  either  morbid  or  unnatural, 
but  is  infinitely  less  touching  and  suggestive  than 
the  three  words  which  in  Scripture  tell  of  the  repent- 
ance. Yet  there  are  some  fine  verses  in  the  poem,  this 
especially : 

Love,  where  I  loved,  was  due,  and  best  deserved  ; 

No  love  could  aim  at  more  love- worthy  mark  ; 
No  love  more  loved  than  mine  of  Him  I  served  ; 

Large  use  He  gave,  a  flame  for  every  spark. 
This  love  I  lost,  this  loss  a  life  must  rue  ; 
Yea,  life  is  short  to  pay  the  ruth  I  owe.^ 

The  following  is  from  a  hymn  to  Christ ; 

I  praise  Him  most,  I  love  Him  best,  all  praise  and  love  is 
His; 

While  Him  I  love,  in  Him  I  live,  and  cannot  live  amiss. 

Love's  sweetest  mark,  laud's  highest  theme,  man's  most  de- 
sired light, 

To  love  Him  life,  to  leave  Him  death,  to  live  in  Him  delight. 

He  mine  by  gift,  I  His  by  debt,  thus  each  to  other  due. 

First  friend  He  was,  best  friend  He  is,  all  times  will  try  Him 
true. 

His  knowledge  rules.  His  strength  defends.  His  love  doth 
cherish  all ; 

His  birth  our  joy.  His  life  our  light,  His  death  our  end  of 
thrall.2 

From  CONTENT  and  rich. 

I  dwell  in  Grace's  Court, 

Enrich'd  with  Virtue's  rights  ; 
Faith  guides  my  wit  ;  love  leads  my  will, 

Hope  all  my  mind  delights. 

My  conscience  is  my  crown, 

Contented  thoughts  my  rest ; 
My  heart  is  happy  in  itself, 

My  bliss  is  in  my  breast. 

*  Robert  SouthwelPs  Complete  Poems  ;  Saint  Peter's  Complaint,  ed.  by 
Grosart,  1872;  stanza  Ixxxiv.  p.  32. 
2  Id.  p.  70. 

L 


1 62  Religiotts  Thought  in 

Enough,  I  reckon  wealth  : 

A  mean,  the  surest  lot. 
That  lies  too  high  for  base  contempt, 

Too  low  for  envy's  shot. 

My  wishes  are  but  few, 

All  easy  to  fulfil  ; 
I  make  the  limits  of  my  power 

The  bounds  unto  my  will, 

I  feel  no  care  of  coin, 

Well-doing  is  my  wealth  ; 

My  mind  to  me  an  empire  is, 
While  grace  affordeth  health. 

I  clip  high-climbing  thoughts. 
The  wings  of  swelling  pride  ; 

Their  fall  is  worst,  that  from  the  height 
Of  greatest  honour  slide. 

Since  sails  of  largest  size 
The  storm  doth  soonest  tear, 

I  bear  so  low  and  small  a  sail 
As  freeth  me  from  fear. 

No  change  of  fortune's  calms 
Can  cast  my  comforts  down  ; 

Wlien  fortune  smiles,  I  smile  to  think 
How  quickly  she  will  frown. 

And  when  in  froward  mood 

She  proves  an  angr>''  foe, 
Small  gain  I  found  to  let  her  come, 

Small  loss  to  let  her  go.^ 

From  life's  death,  love's  life. 

Who  lives  in  love,  loves  least  to  live, 
And  long  delays  doth  rue. 

If  Him  he  love,  by  whom  he  lives, 
To  whom  all  love  is  due  ; 

Who  for  our  sakes  did  choose  to  live, 

And  was  content  to  die  ; 
Who  loved  our  love  more  than  His  life, 

And  love  with  life  did  buy. 

Let  us  in  life,  yea,  with  our  life, 

Requite  His  living  love  ; 
For  best  we  live  when  least  we  live 

If  love  our  life  remove. 

^  Southwell's  Complete  Poems ,  ed.  by  Grosart,  p.  72. 


Old  English  Verse  163 


Life  out  of  earth  hath  no  abode, 

In  earth  love  hath  no  place  ; 
Love  settled  hath  her  joys  in  heaven, 

In  earth  life  all  her  grace. 

Mourn  therefore  no  true  lover's  death  ; 

Life  only  Him  annoys. 
And  when  he  taketh  leave  of  life 

Then  love  begins  his  joys.^ 

Fro7n  LOSS  OR  delay. 

Shun  delays,  they  breed  remorse  ; 

Take  thy  time  while  time  doth  serve  thee 
Creeping  snails  have  weakest  force, 

Fly  their  fault  lest  thou  repent  thee. 
Good  is  best  when  soonest  wrought, 
Linger'd  labours  come  to  nought. 

Hoist  up  sail  while  gale  doth  last. 

Tide  and  wind  stay  no  man's  pleasure  ; 

Seek  not  time  when  time  is  past. 
Sober  speed  is  wisdom's  leisure. 

After-wits  are  dearly  bought. 

Let  thy  fore-wit  guide  thy  thought. 

Time  wears  all  his  locks  before. 
Take  thy  hold  upon  his  forehead  ; 

When  he  flies  he  turns  no  more. 
And  behind  his  scalp  is  naked. 

Works  adjourn'd  have  many  stays, 

Long  demurs  breed  new  delays. 

Seek  thy  salve  while  sore  is  green, 
Fester'd  wounds  ask  deeper  lancing  ; 

After-cures  are  seldom  seen. 

Often  sought,  scarce  ever  chancing  ; 

Time  and  place  give  best  advice  ; 

Out  of  season,  out  of  price.^ 

A  PREPARATIVE  TO   PRAYER. 

When  thou  dost  talk  with  God, — by  prayer  I  mean,— 
Lift  up  pure  hands,  lay  down  all  lust's  desires  : 

Fix  thoughts  on  heaven,  present  a  conscience  clean  : 
Such  holy  balm  to  mercy's  throne  aspires. 

Confess  faults'  guilt,  crave  pardon  for  thy  sin  ; 

Tread  holy  paths,  call  grace  to  guide  therein.^ 

^  SouthwelVs  Complete  Poems,  ed.  by  Grosart,  p.  86. 
2  Id.  75.  3  /^^  18^, 


164  Religious  Thought  in 

Some  pleasing  verses,  hi  Praise  of  a  Good  MindCy 
quite  in  the  spirit  of  the  best  Elizabethan  writers,  were 
written  about  1590,  by  Rychard  Denys.  I  quote  some 
lines  from  the  beginning  of  the  poem  : 

What  thing  of  greater  price 

On  earth  may  any  find, 
What  gold  or  riches  may  compare 

With  virtue  of  the  mind  ? 
The  mind  doth  still  possess 

In  man  a  kingly  place, 
And  guides  the  steps  of  mortal  wights, 

And  rules  in  every  case. 

Who  that  can  rule  his  mind 

And  thinks  all  pleasures  vain. 
How  great  a  Lord  is  he  in  thought, 

How  princely  doth  he  reign  ! 
No  worldly  wealth  can  move 

His  mind  sin  to  obey. 
Nor  force  compel  him  once  to  yield 

Unto  his  own  decay.^ 

Barnaby  Barnes,  son  of  a  Bishop  of  Durham, 
was  a  soldier  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  In  1591  he  held 
command  in  France  under  the  Earl  of  Essex.  His 
Divine  Centiirie  of  Spiritiiale  So?mets  was  published 
in  1595,  with  a  preface  which  breathes  a  very  fervid 
spirit  of  devotion.  The  verses  themselves  are  by  no 
means  wanting  in  power  of  expression  and  in  exaltation 
of  feeling.     The  following  are  two  of  the  sonnets  : — 

SONNET  XXXVII. 

O  my  dear  God  !  how  shall  my  voice  prevail  ? 

How  shall  my  tongue  give  utterance  to  my  mind  ? 

Where  shall  my  thankful  heart  free  passage  find  ? 
My  slender  voice,  tongue  feeble,  and  heart  frail. 
Before  they  can  give  condign  praise,  will  fail. 

I  cannot  celebrate  in  their  due  kind 

Thy  glories  numberless,  which  angels  find 
E'en  to  sumiount  all  angels'  best  travdil. 

^  Pieces  of  Ancient  Poetry  from  Unpublished  Manuscripts  and  Scarce 
Books,  by  N.  G.,  Bristol  (18 14),  p.  45. 


Old  English  Verse  165 

0  my  dear  God  I  my  comfort  and  solace  : 

My  swift  soul  flies,  with  my  divine  thoughts'  wings, 
E'en  to  Thy  bosom.     Oh  I  let  it  embrace 

And  triumph  in  my  sweet  salvation's  springs  : 
For  I  believe  Thou  wilt  not  me  forsake, 
Who,  for  me,  didst  Thy  Son  a  martyr  make. 

SONNET   XXXVIII. 

Gracious,  Divine,  and  most  Omnipotent  ! 

Receive  Thy  servant's  talent  in  good  part, 

Who  hid  it  not,  but  willing  did  convert 
It  to  best  use  he  could,  when  it  was  lent  : 
The  sum,  though  slender,  yet  not  all  mispent, 

Receive,  dear  God  of  grace  I  from  cheerful  heart 

Of  him,  that  knows  how  merciful  Thou  art. 
And  with  what  grace  to  contrite  sinners  lent. 

1  know  my  fault,  I  did  not  as  I  should  ; 
My  sinful  flesh  against  my  soul  rebell'd  ; 

But  since  I  did  endeavour  what  I  could, 
^Let  not  my  little  nothing  be  withheld  • 

From  Thy  rich  treasuries  of  endless  grace, 
But,  for  Thy  sake,  let  it  procure  a  place.^ 

Henry  Constable,  of  St.  John's  College,  Cambridge, 
was  a  Roman  Catholic,  who  wrote  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  sixteenth  century.  The  following  are  a  few  lines 
from  one  of  the  Spirititall  Sonnettes  to  the  Honour  of 
God  and  His  Sayntes,  by  H.  C.  The  initials  are  almost 
certainly  his  : 

No  marvel  though  Thy  birth  made  angels  sing, 

And  angels'  ditties  shepherds'  pipes  awake, 

And  kings,  like  shepherds,  humbled  for  Thy  sake, 

Kneel  at  Thy  feet,  and  gifts  of  homage  bring  : 

For  heaven  and  earth,  the  high  and  lovv^  estate. 

As  partners  of  Thy  birth  make  equal  claim.^ 

William  Hunnis,  '  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  her  Majes- 
tie's  honourable  Chappel,  and  Maister  to  the  Children 
of  the  same,'  published  in  1597  Seven  Sobs  of  a  Sorrow- 
ful Soule  for  Sinne,  being  Davids  Peenitentiall  Psalms 

^  Poems  of  Barnabe  Barnes  :  A  Divine  Centurie,  etc.  (Grosart),  1875, 
p.  179  :  '  O  my  deare  God  !  how  shall  my  voice  prevaile? ' 
2  Spiritual  Sonnettes^  p.  4 ;  Heliconia,  ii.  : 

No  mervayle,  though  thy  byrth  mayd  angells  synge, 
And  angell's  dyttyes  shepheyrds  pypes  awake. 


1 66  ReligioiLs  Thought  in 

framed  into  familiar  Praiers.  They  are  paraphrased 
very  freely.  Thus,  part  of  the  38th  Psalm  is  made  a 
text  for  the  following  : — 

Sin  may  well  be  compared 

Unto  a  serpent  vile, 
Which  with  his  body,  head,  and  tail. 

Doth  many  one  beguile. 
For  where  the  serpent's  head 

To  enter  doth  begin, 
Thereat  the  body  with  the  tail 

Apace  comes  sliding  in. 
The  motions  first  of  sin 

Unto  the  head  apply  ; 
And  when  the  heart  consents  thereto. 

Then  is  the  body  nigh  ; 
The  fact  once  being  done, 

Then  is  the  serpent's  tail 
With  head  and  body  entered  in, 

Where  he  must  needs  prevail.^ 

The  following  is  from  his  Handful  of  Honisiickles — 
Short  and  Pit  hie  Prayers  Gathered  by  J  dm  : — 

O  Jesu  dear,  do  Thou  with  me 

Even  as  Thy  will  shall  please  ; 
Sweet  Jesu,  put  me  where  Thou  wilt 

To  suffer  pain  or  ease. 

Jesus,  behold,  I  am  but  Thine 

Be  I  or  good  or  ill  ; 
Yet  by  Thy  grace  I  ready  am 

Thy  pleasure  to  fulfil. 

Jesu,  I  am  Thy  workmanship  ! 

Most  blessed  mayst  Thou  be  ; 
Sweet  Jesu,  for  Thy  mercy's  sake 

Have  mercy  now  on  me.^ 

In  England's  Helicon,  a  delightful  collection  of 
pastoral  verse,  published  in  1600,  is  d.  Christmas  Carol 
by  Edward  Bolton,  a  Roman  Catholic,  a  scholar  and 
antiquary  of  repute,  attached  to  the  household  of  the 
Duke  of  Buckingham.     It  is  very  melodious,  and  its 

'  Seven  Penitential  Sobs,  by  W.  Hunnis,  etc.,  1597  :  *  Sinne  may  wel 
be  comparde.' 

^  A  Handful  of  Honisuckhs,  by  William  Hunnis,  1597. 


Old  English  Verse  167 

Arcadian  tone  and  delicate  conceits  of  language  were 
quite  in  accordance  with  the  taste  of  that  age : 

Sweet  music,  sweeter  far 

Than  any  song  is  sweet : 

Sweet  music,  heavenly  rare, 

Mine  ears  (O  peers)  doth  greet. 
Yon  gentle  flocks,  whose  fleeces,  pearl'd  with  dew, 
Resemble  heaven,  whom  golden  drops  make  bright, — 
Listen,  O  listen,  now  ; — O  not  to  you 
Our  pipes  make  sport  to  shorten  weary  night : — 

But  voices  most  divine 

Make  blissful  harmony  ; 

Voices  that  seem  to  shine. 

For  what  else  clears  the  sky  ? 
Tunes  can  we  hear,  but  not  the  singers  see  ; 
The  tunes  divine  and  so  the  singers  be. 

Lo  how  the  firmament 

Within  an  azure  fold 

The  flock  of  stars  hath  pent. 

That  we  them  might  behold  ! 
Yet  from  their  beams  proceedeth  not  this  light. 
Nor  can  their  crystals  such  reflection  give. 
What  then  doth  make  the  element  so  bright  ? 
The  heavens  are  come  down  upon  earth  to  live. 

But  hearken  to  the  song  : 

Glory  to  glory's  King, 

And  peace  all  men  among. 

These  choristers  do  sing — 
Angels  they  are,  as  also,  shepherds.  He, 
Whom,, in  our  fear,  we  do  admire  to  see. 

'  Let  not  amazement  blind 

Your  souls,'  said  he,  '  annoy  : 

To  you  and  all  mankind 

My  message  bringeth  joy.' 
For,  lo  !  the  world's  great  Shepherd  now  is  born, 
A  blessed  Babe,  an  infant  full  of  power  ; 
After  long  night  uprisen  is  the  morn 
Renowning  Bethlehem  in  the  Saviour. 

Spnmg  is  the  perfect  day. 

To  prophets  seen  afar  ; 

Sprung  is  the  mirthful  May 

Which  winter  cannot  mar. 
In  David's  city  doth  this  Sun  appear, 
Clouded  in  flesh  ; — yet,  shepherds,  sit  we  here  l^ 

^  England's  Helicon  ;    The  ShephearcTs  Song,  a  Caroll  or  Hiinne  for 
Christmas,  p.  147  :  '  Sweet  musicke,  sweeter  farre.' 


1 68  Religiotts  Thought  m 

Samuel  Rowlands  published,  in  1598,  a  series  ot 
poems  on  the  Passion  of  our  Lord.  They  are  not  in 
any  way  remarkable ;  but,  for  the  sake  of  the  thought 
expressed  in  them,  I  quote  a  stanza  on  the  name 
'  friend,'  as  addressed  to  the  traitor  Judas  : — 

To  call  thee  friend,  it  doth  thus  much  betoken. 
No  cause  in  me  hath  cancelled  love's  desire, 
But  thy  revolting  hath  our  friendship  broken  ; 
Unaltered  I  remain  the  same  entire  : 

If  thou,  with  David,  '  I  have  sinned,'  couldst  say, 
His  answer  thine — 'Thy  sin  is  done  away.'i 

The  following  verses  from  his  Highway  to  Mount  Cat- 
varie  stand  on  a  higher  level  of  merit  than  most  of  his 
poems : — 

Follow  their  steps  in  tears, 

And  with  those  women  mourn, 
But  not  for  Christ ;  weep  for  thyself, 

And  Christ  will  grace  return. 

Join  thou  unto  the  Cross  ; 

Bear  it  of  love's  desire  I 
Do  not  as  Cyren^eus  did. 

That  took  it  up  for  hire. 

It  is  a  grateful  deed. 

If  willing  underta'en  ; 
But  if  temptation  set  awork, 

The  labour's  done  in  vain. 

The  voluntary  death 

That  Christ  did  die  for  thee, 
Gives  life  to  none  but  such  as  joy 

Cross-bearing  friends  to  be. 

Up  to  Mount  Calvary, 

If  thou  desire  to  go  ; 
Then  take  thy  cross  and  follow  Christ  , 

Thou  canst  not  miss  it  so. 

When  thou  art  there  arrived. 

His  glorious  wounds  to  see, 
Say,  but  as  faithful  as  the  thief, 

'  O  Lord,  remember  me.'  - 

'  S.    Rowlatids'  Betraying  of  Christ,    etc.,   1598;    Reprinted   for    the 
Hunterian  Society,  No.  xxix. 

^  From  Mrs.  E.  Charles'  Voice  0/  Christ ian  Life  and  Song,  1873,1).  3^2. 


Old  English  Verse  1 69 

Among  Rowlands'  numerous  productions  are  a  num- 
ber of  Bell-mans  Sounds  and  Cries,  to  put  us  in  mind  of 
our  Mortality.     Here  are  two  of  them  : — 

Remember,  man,  thou  art  but  dust  ; 
There  is  none  aUve  but  die  he  must. 
To-day  a  man,  to-morrow  none. 
So  soon  our  Hfe  is  past  and  gone. 
Man's  Hfe  is  hke  a  witherd  flower. 
Alive  and  dead  all  in  an  hour. 
Leave  off  thy  sins,  therefore,  in  time, 
And  Christ  will  rid  thee  of  thy  crime. 


Arise  from  sin,  awake  from  sleep  ; 
The  earth  doth  mourn,  the  heavens  weep  ; 
The  winds  and  seas  distempered  bin, 
And  all  by  reason  of  man's  sin  ; 
Wherefore  arise,  lay  sleep  aside, 
And  call  on  God  to  be  your  guide. 
From  raging  sword  and  arrow's  flight. 
And  from  the  terrors  of  the  night  ; 
From  fire's  flame,  from  sin  and  sorrow, 
God  bless  you  all ;  and  so.  Good-morrow  I  ^ 

The  following  stanza,  on  the  Said  of  Man,  is  by 
Gervase  Markham  (i  566-1637),  a  soldier  of  fortune, 
a  good  linguist,  and  a  writer  of  works  of  agriculture 
and  arboriculture.  His  Teares  of  the  Beloved ;  or  The 
Lamentation  of  St.  fohn,  was  published  in  1600. 

Fly  forth,  my  soul  ;  for  sure  this  Word  divine 

Hath  power  on  thee  to  call  thee  back  again  ; 
Unseen  thou  art,  my  body  doth  thee  shrine, 
Bodiless  and  immortal,  subject  to  joy  or  pain  : 
To  none  more  like  than  to  that  hidden  grace 
The  Godhead  hath,  which  Satan  would  deface.^ 

Samuel  Nicholson,  of  whom  little  is  known,  except 
that  he  was  a  Master  of  Arts,  wrote  Acolastus  his  After- 
Witte,  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  follow- 
ing are  a  few  stanzas  from  it : — 


^  .S".  Rowlands^  Heaven's  Glory,  etc.,  1628;  Hunterian  Society,  No. 
xxxvii. 

2  The  Teares  of  the  Beloved,  by  Gervase  Markham  ;  ed.  by  Grosart, 
1871,  p.  38. 


1 70  Religious  Thought  m 

Misguided  heart,  made  alien  from  the  form 

Of  thy  pure  Maker's  glorious  creation  ; 
Coward,  why  didst  thou  yield  to  Fancy's  storm, 
And  stoop  to  Lust,  that  foul  abomination  ? 

Had'st  thou,  with  Reason's  bit,  checked  raging  Will, 
A  small  foresight  might  have  forestalled  this  ill. 

O  where  was  Prayer,  the  Soul's  Ambassador, 
To  muster  heavenly  troops  of  powerful  aid, 
When  Sin  and  Hell  first  lalDoured  to  deflower 
Thy  body's  Temple,  God's  unspotted  maid  ? 

Christ  bids  thee  knock  for  help,  and  thou  shalt  have  it ; 
Then  let  him  helpless  die  that  will  not  crave  it. 

Thou  should'st  have  summoned  Hope  and  Charity, 
Mount-moving  Faith,  hot  Zeal,  and  perfect  Love, 
Free-given  Grace,  true  Courage,  Constancy, 
With  such  like  gifts  descending  from  above. 
The  smallest  handful  of  this  holy  band 
Had  kept  the  dev'l  from  seizing  on  thy  Soul. 

Look,  as  the  chaff  dispersed  before  the  wind. 

Or,  as  the  dew  exhaled  by  the  sun. 

Or,  as  a  dream  which,  waking,  none  can  find, 

Or,  as  a  thought,  ended  ere  well  begun  ; 

So  fancies  die,  so  soon  we  stifle  evil. 

If  we  resist  the  motives  of  the  devil. 

O  heartless  heart,  false  slave  to  false  delight. 

Why  didst  thou  tremble  ere  the  trumpet  sounded, 
Yielding  thyself  to  sin  before  the  fight. 

And  dastardly  depart  the  field  unwounded  ? 

When  guides  misguide  themselves,  the  simple  sort, 
By  their  ill-sample,  render  up  the  fort.^ 

The  following  lines  I  take  from  Professor  Palgrave's 
Treastiry  of  Sacred  Song.  They  occur  as  prefatory  to 
a  Bible  of  1594: — 

Here  is  the  Spring  where  waters  flow 

To  quench  our  heat  of  sin  ; 
Here  is  the  tree  where  truth  doth  grow 

To  lead  our  lives  therein  ; 

Here  is  the  Judge  that  stints  [stays]  the  strife 

When  men's  devices  fail  : 
Here  is  the  Bread  that  feeds  the  life 

Which  death  can  not  assail. 

1  Sain.  Nicholson,  M.A.  :  Acolasttis  his  After- Wifie,  1600,  ed.  by 
Grosart,  1876  :  '  Misguided  heart,  made  alyen  from  the  forme.' 


Old  English  Verse  171 

The  tidings  of  salvation  dear 

Comes  to  our  ears  from  hence  ; 
The  fortress  of  our  faith  is  here, 

The  shield  of  our  defence. 

Then  be  not  like  the  hog  that  hath 

A  pearl  at  his  desire, 
And  takes  more  pleasure  in  the  trough 

And  wallowing  in  the  mire. 

Read  not  this  book  in  any  case 

But  with  a  single  eye  ; 
Read  not,  but  first  desire  God's  grace, 

To  understand  thereby. 

Pray  still  in  faith  with  this  respect 

To  fructify  therein  ; 
That  knowledge  may  bring  this  effect, 

To  mortify  thy  sin. 

Then  happy  thou  in  all  thy  life, 

Whatso  to  thee  befalls  ; 
Yea,  doubly  happy  shalt  thou  be 

When  God  by  death  thee  calls. 

Among  the  many  men  of  mark  who  adorned  Queen 
Elizabeth's  Court,  Fulke  Greville,  Lord  Brooke  (1554- 
1628),  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable.  Kinsman  to 
Sir  Philip  Sydney,  his  school  friend  at  Shrewsbury,  his 
compeer  in  all  chivalrous  exercises,  sharing  with  him 
his  eager  love  for  adventure,  imbued  like  him  with  a 
deep  vein  of  poetical  thought,  he  was  his  bosom  friend 
through  life,  and  mourned  his  premature  death  with 
passionate  and  lasting  grief.  He  was  held  in  much 
honour  by  Elizabeth,  James  I.,  and  Charles  I.,  and,  after 
holding  several  important  posts  of  trust,  and  serving  for 
Warwickshire  in  the  House  of  Commons,  he  was  made 
in  1614  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  and  Privy  Coun- 
cillor. He  received  the  title  of  Lord  Brooke  in  1620. 
His  was  a  pure  and  noble  life.  His  poems,  written  in 
the  intervals  of  active  employment,  were  not  published 
till  after  his  death,  and  their  chronology  is  uncertain. 
It  is  certain  that  some  of  them  were  not  written  till  after 
the  death  of  Elizabeth.  If  it  did  not  seem  natural  that 
mention  of  him  should  be  not  far  removed  from  that  of 
Sir  Philip  Sydney,  his  poems  might  be  considered  as 
belonging  almost  more  properly  to  the  first  part  of  the 


172  Religious  Thoztght  in 

seventeenth  than  to  the  closing  years  of  the  sixteenth 
century. 

His  poetical  writings  are  by  no  means  of  an  ordinary 
kind.  They  are  far  from  being  easy  reading.  But 
they  contain  so  much  profound  thought,  that  the  careful 
reader  of  them,  however  baffled  and  puzzled  he  may 
often  be,  will  not  rashly  pronounce  that  the  difficulties 
he  meets  with  do  not  often  rise  from  intricacy  of 
thought,  rather  than  of  language.  Still,  obscurity  is  no 
merit  either  in  poets  of  our  own  day  or  in  those  of  a 
preceding  age.  Language  may  have  its  limitations  ; 
but  a  tolerable  master  of  it  should  not  often  find  it 
impossible  to  express  in  lucid  words  the  subtler  work- 
ings of  his  mind.  In  Lord  Brooke's  poems  the  thought 
is  generally  better  than  the  composition.  Some  of  his 
verses,  especially  those  in  the  series  entitled  Ccelicay 
show  that  he  was  by  no  means  without  the  power  of 
writing  melodiously,  but  his  style  is  often  cumbrous 
and  perplexed  ;  so  much  so,  that  a  hasty  reader  will 
most  certainly  pass  upon  them  a  judgment  far  less 
favourable  than  they  deserve. 

In  quoting  a  few  of  the  verses,  which  are  infused 
most  definitely  with  the  religious  tone  which  more  or 
less  pervades  them  generally,  I  shall  avoid  the  obscurer 
passages.  I  first  give  the  concluding  sonnet  of  the 
Ccelica^  a  fervent,  but  almost  despairing,  aspiration  for 
the  purging  of  the  world's  wickedness  and  the  coming 
of  a  purer  Kingdom  of  God  : 

Sion  lies  waste,  and  Thy  Jerusalem, 
O  Lord,  is  fallen  to  utter  desolation  ; 

Against  Thy  prophets  and  Thy  holy  men 
The  sin  hath  wrought  a  fatal  combination. 

Profaned  Thy  name,  Thy  worship  overthrown 

And  made  Thee,  Living  Lord,  a  God  unknown, 

Thy  powerful  laws,  Thy  wonders  of  creation. 
Thy  word  incarnate,  glorious  heaven,  dark  hell, 

Lie  shadowed  under  man's  degeneration  ; 
Thy  Christ  still  crucified  for  doing  well  ; 

Impiety,  O  Lord,  sits  on  Thy  throne, 

Which  makes  Thee,  living  Lord,  a  God  unknown. 


Old  English  Verse  173 

Yet  unto  Thee,  Lord — mirror  of  trangression — 
We,  who  for  earthly  idols  have  forsaken 

Thy  heavenly  image,  sinless,  pure  impression. 
And  so  in  nets  of  vanity  lie  taken. 

All  desolate,  implore  that  to  Thine  own, 

Lord,  Thou  no  longer  live  a  God  unknown. 

Yet,  Lord,  let  Israel's  plagues  not  be  eternal. 
Nor  sin  for  ever  cloud  Thy  sacred  mountains, 

Nor  with  false  flames  spiritual  but  eternal 

Dry  up  Thy  mercy's  ever  springing  fountains  ; 

Rather,  sweet  Jesu,  fill  up  time,  and  come 

To  yield  the  sin  her  everlasting  doom.^ 

Of  the  limitations  of  knowledge,  and  of  the  illimitable 
yearnings  of  the  human  mind  which  can  only  find 
satisfaction  in  the  infinity  of  God  : — 

And  as  the  mind,  in  her  vast  comprehension. 

Contains  more  worlds  than  all  the  world  can  find  ; 
So  knowledge  doth  itself  far  more  extend 
Than  all  the  minds  of  men  can  comprehend. 

A  climbing  height  it  is  without  a  head, 

Depth  without  bottom,  way  without  an  end, 

A  circle  with  no  line  environed. 

Not  comprehended,  all  it  comprehends  ; 

Worth  infinite,  yet  satisfies  no  mind 

Till  it  that  infinite  of  the  Godhead  find.^ 

Of  the  Spirit  of  God  in  man  : — 

What  is  the  chain  which  draws  us  back  again, 
And  lifts  mankind  unto  his  first  creation  ? 

— Nothing  in  him  his  own  heart  can  restrain  ; 
His  reason  lives  a  captive  to  temptation  ; 

Example  is  corrupt,  precepts  are  mixed  ; 

All  fleshly  knowledge  frail  and  never  fixed. — 

It  is  a  light,  a  gift,  a  grace  inspired, 
A  spark  of  power,  a  goodness  of  the  Good  ; 

Desire  in  him,  that  never  is  desired  ;2 
An  unity  where  desolation  stood  ; 

In  us,  not  of  us,  a  spirit  not  of  earth. 

Fashioning  the  mortal  to  immortal  birth.* 

^  Lord  Brooke's  Works  :  Caelica,  Sonnet  ex.,  ed.  by  Grosart,  iii.  p.  142  : 
*  Syon  lyes  waste,  and  Thy  Jerusalem.' 

^  Id.  :  Of  Hmnane  Learnings  1-2,  vol.  ii.  5. 

^  Which,  I  suppose,  means  'a  longing  desire  in  man  which  is  never 
asked  in  vain,'  '  desired  '  being  used  in  the  ancient  sense  of  *  missed.' 

^  Id.:  Of  Religion:,  2-3,  vol.  i.  239. 


174  Religious  Tkotcgkt  in 

Of  Divine  wisdom   being  hidden  to  a   presumptuous 
intellect : — 

Then  by  affecting  power,  we  cannot  know  Him  ; 

By  knowing  all  things  else,  we  know  Him  less  ; 
Nature  contains  Him  not  ;  art  cannot  show  Him  ; 

Opinions,  idols,  and  not  God  express. 
Without,  in  power,  we  see  Him  everywhere  ; 
Within,  we  rest  not  till  we  find  Him  there. 

Then,  man,  rest  on  this  feeling  from  above  : 
Plant  thou  thy  faith  on  this  celestial  way  ; 

The  world  is  made  for  use  ;  God  is  for  love  ; 
Sorrow  for  sin  :  knowledge  but  to  obey  ; 

Fear  and  temptation  to  refine  and  prove  ; 

The  heaven  for  joy.     Desire  thou  that  it  may 

Find  peace  in  endless,  boundless,  heavenly  things  ; 

Place  it  elsewhere,  it  desolation  brings.^ 

In  the  last  year  of  the  sixteenth  century,  Sir  John 
Davies  (i 570-1626)  published  his  poem  on  the  im- 
mortality of  the  soul,  under  the  title  Nosce  Teipsum. 
It  was  the  first  philosophical  poem  which  had  hitherto 
been  produced  in  England,  and  immediately  attracted 
much  attention.  He  had  previously  been  rather  under 
a  cloud,  having  been  expelled  from  the  Middle  Temple, 
whither  he  had  passed  from  Queen's  College,  Oxford, 
on  account  of  a  violent  quarrel  at  dinner-time  in  the 
common  hall.  He  was  now  restored  to  his  place  as 
barrister,  became  a  most  active  and  useful  member  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  was  sent  as  Solicitor-General 
to  Ireland,  and  won  a  lasting  name  there  both  by  his 
administration  and  by  his  valuable  writings  on  the 
condition  of  that  country.  He  was  knighted,  and  was 
chosen  Speaker  of  the  First  House  of  Commons  in 
Ireland.  He  returned  to  England  in  1620,  and  six 
years  after,  just  before  his  sudden  death  by  apoplexy, 
was  appointed  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  England. 

It  would  ill  become  a  writer  of  this  age  to  find  fault 
with  a  conjunction  of  poetry  and  philosophic  reason- 
ings.    We  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  some  of  our  best 

1  Lord  Brooke  s  Works  :  Of  Religion^  ed.  by  Grosart,  vol.  i.  7. 

2  Id.  114. 


Old  English  Verse  175 

poets  for  the  deep  and  meditative  thought  which  they 
have  bestowed  upon  religious  subjects,  and  upon  the 
spiritual  aspirations  of  the  human  soul.  But  it  must 
be  acknowledged  that  Sir  John  Davies's  poem  is  rather 
too  much  of  an  argument  trammelled  by  verse,  and  that 
consequently  it  is  a  little  tedious.  Some  of  its  finest 
passages  carry  with  them  a  reminiscence  of  Cicero,  and 
in  doing  so  are  apt  to  remind  the  reader  of  them  that 
their  poetical  form  does  not  compare  favourably  with 
the  noble  prose  of  the  Latin  author.  Still  it  is  a  poem 
of  great  merit,  and  inaugurated  in  a  very  worthy  manner 
a  fresh  field  for  religious  poetry  in  England.  There  is 
no  consecutive  passage  in  it  better  adapted  for  quota- 
tion than  the  concluding  section  of  it : — 

O  ignorant  poor  man  !  what  dost  thou  bear 
Lock'd  up  within  the  casket  of  thy  breast  ? 

What  jewels  and  what  riches  hast  thou  there  ! 
What  heavenly  treasure  in  so  weak  a  chest ! 

Think  of  her  worth,  and  think  that  God  did  mean 

This  worthy  mind  should  worthy  things  embrace  ; 
Blot  not  her  beauties  with  thy  thoughts  unclean, 

Nor  her  dishonour  with  thy  passion  base. 
Kill  not  her  quickening  power  with  surfeitings  ; 

Nor  mar  her  sense  with  sensuality  ; 
Cast  not  away  her  wit  on  idle  things  ; 

Make  not  her  free-will  slave  to  vanity. 
And  when  thou  think'st  of  her  eternity. 

Think  not  that  death  against  her  nature  is  ; 
Think  it  a  birth,  and  when  thou  go'st  to  die, 

Sing  like  a  swan,  as  if  thou  went  to  bliss. 
And  if  thou,  like  a  child,  didst  fear  before 

Being  in  the  dark,  where  thou  didst  nothing  see, 
Now  I  have  brought  thee  torchlight,  fear  no  more  ; 

Now,  when  thou  diest,  thou  canst  not  hoodwink'd  be. 
And  thou,  my  soul,  which  turn'd  with  curious  eye 

To  view  the  beams  of  thine  own  form  divine, 
Know,  that  thou  canst  know  nothing  perfectly, 

While  thou  art  clouded  with  this  flesh  of  mine. 
Take  heed  of  overweening,  and  compare 

Thy  peacock'd  feet  with  thy  gay  peacock's  train  ; 
Study  the  best  and  highest  things  that  are. 

But  of  thyself  an  humble  thought  retain. 


176  Religioii.s  Thoitght  171 

Cast  down  thyself,  and  only  strive  to  raise 

The  glory  of  thy  Maker's  sacred  name  : 
Use  all  thy  powers,  that  blessed  Power  to  praise 

Which  gave  thee  power  to  be,  and  use  the  same.^ 

The  following  is  from  John  D  any  el's  Songs  for  the 
Lute  and  Viol  (1600)  : 

If  I  could  shut  the  gate  against  my  thoughts, 
And  keep  out  sorrow  from  this  room  within, 

Or  memory  could  cancel  all  the  notes 
Of  my  misdeeds,  and  I  unthink  my  sin  ; 

How  free,  how  clear,  how  clean  my  soul  should  lie, 

Discharged  of  such  a  loathsome  company  ! 

But,  O  my  Saviour,  who  my  refuge  art. 

Let  Thy  dear  mercies  stand  'twixt  them  and  me. 

And  be  the  wall  to  separate  my  heart. 
So  that  I  may  at  length  repose  me  free  ; 

That  peace,  and  joy  and  rest  may  be  within. 

And  I  remain  divided  from  my  sin.^ 

The  life  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  (i 552-1618)  is  so 
intimately  associated  with  the  memories  of  Queen  Eliz- 
abeth's reign,  that  although  his  Pilgrimage  was,  in  all 
likelihood,  not  written  in  the  sixteenth  century,  it  may 
be  mentioned  here.  His  long  imprisonment  began  in 
1603.  It  was  most  likely  at  this  time,  when  he  was  in 
daily  expectation  of  death,  that  he  wrote  these  verses. 
He  had  long  been  accustomed  to  look  death  in  the  face 
bravely  and  fearlessly,  yet  with  a  tinge  of  sadness  in 
his  reflections  upon  it.  And  now,  in  the  stillness  of 
his  dungeon,  he  could  almost  toy  with  the  probability 
of  execution  on  the  morrow,  and  clothe  a  religious  hope 
in  gay  hues  of  fancy  through  which  runs  a  scarcely 
perceptible  thread  of  melancholy  : — 

Give  me  my  scallop  shell  of  quiet. 

My  staff  of  faith  to  walk  upon, 
My  scrip  of  joy,  immortal  diet. 

My  bottle  of  salvation. 
My  gown  of  glory,  hope's  true  gage  ; 
And  thus  I  '11  take  my  pilgrimage. 

^  Sir  John  Davies's  Nosce  Teipsum^  sect,  xxxiv,  Anderson's  B.  Poets,  ii. 
2  Bullen's  More  Songs  from  Elizabethan  Song-Books^  1888,  p.  52. 


Old  English  Verse  177 

Blood  must  be  my  body's  balmer  ; 

No  other  balm  will  there  be  given  ; 
Whilst  my  soul,  like  quiet  palmer, 

Travelleth  toward  the  land  of  heaven  ; 
Over  the  silver  mountains 
Where  spring  the  nectar  fountains  : 
There  will  I  kiss 
The  bowl  of  bliss, 
And  drink  mine  everlasting  fill 
Upon  every  milken  hill. 
My  soul  will  be  a-dry  before  ; 
But  after  it  will  thirst  no  more. 
Then  by  that  happy  blissful  day 

More  peaceful  pilgrims  I  shall  see 
That  have  cast  off  their  rags  of  clay, 
And  walk  apparelled  fresh  like  me. 
I  '11  take  them  first 
To  quench  their  thirst 
And  taste  of  nectar  suckets 
At  those  clear  wells 
Where  sweetness  dwells 
Drawn  up  by  saints  in  crystal  buckets. 

And  when  our  bottles  and  all  we 

Are  filled  with  immortality, 

Then  the  blessed  paths  we  '11  travel 

Strew'd  with  rubies  thick  as  gravel  ; 

Ceilings  of  diamonds,  sapphire  floors, 

High  walls  of  coral,  and  pearly  bowers. 

From  thence  to  heaven's  bribeless  hall 

Where  no  corrupted  voices  brawl  ; 

No  conscience  molten  into  gold, 

No  forged  accuser  bought  or  sold, 

No  cause  deferred,  no  vain  spent  journey, 

For  there  Christ  is  the  King's  Attorney, 

Who  pleads  for  all  without  degrees, 

And  He  hath  angels,  but  no  fees. 

And  when  the  grand  twelve  million  jury 

Of  our  sins,  with  direful  fury. 

Against  our  souls  black  verdicts  give, 

Christ  pleads  His  death  and  then  we  live. 

Be  thou  my  speaker,  taintless  pleader, 
Unblotted  lawyer,  true  proceeder  ! 
Thou  givest  salvation  even  for  alms, 
Not  with  a  bribed  lawyer^s  palms. 
And  this  is  mine  eternal  plea 
To  Him  that  made  heaven,  earth,  and  sea, 
M 


178  Religious  Thought  in 

That  since  my  flesh  must  die  so  soon, 

And  want  a  head  to  dine  next  noon, — 

Just  at  the  stroke  when  my  veins  start  and  spread, 

Set  on  my  soul  an  everlasting  head  ! 

Then  am  I  ready,  like  a  palmer  fit, 

To  tread  those  blest  paths  which  before  I  writ. 

Sir  Walter  was  released  in  16 14,  and  went,  under  a 
Royal  Commission,  to  Guiana,  but  on  his  return,  in 
161 8,  was  again  thrown  into  the  Tower,  and  capital 
sentence  was  quickly  passed.  The  following  verses, 
written,  it  is  said,  the  night  before  his  death,  were 
found  in  his  Bible  : — 

Even  such  is  time,  that  takes  in  trust 
Our  youth,  our  joys,  our  all  we  have, 

And  pays  us  but  with  earth  and  dust ; 
Who  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave. 

When  we  have  wandered  all  our  ways, 

Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  days  ; 

But  from  this  earth,  this  grave,  this  dust. 

My  God  shall  raise  me  up,  I  trust. 

To  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century  belongs 
a  very  familiar  hymn,  which  in  the  next  two  centuries 
passed  through  many  variations.  The  original  of 
Jerusalem,  my  Happy  Home,  is  in  a  quarto  volume, 
dating  probably  from  about  16 16,  and  entitled  A  Song 
by  F.  B.  P.  The  hymn  itself  is  considered  to  be  of 
Queen  Elizabeth's  time.  Fourteen  out  of  the  twenty- 
six  stanzas  will  be  found  in  Lord.  Selborne's  Book  of 
Praise.     I  extract  a  few  verses  : — 

Jerusalem,  my  happy  home. 

When  shall  I  come  to  thee  ? 
When  shall  my  sorrows  have  an  end — 

Thy  joys  when  shall  I  see .'' 

O  happy  harbour  of  the  saints  ! 

O  sweet  and  pleasant  soil  ! 
In  thee  no  sorrow  may  be  found, 

No  grief,  no  care,  no  toil. 

There  lust  and  lucre  cannot  dwell, 

There  envy  bears  no  sway  ; 
There  is  no  hunger,  heat,  nor  cold, 

But  pleasure  every  way. 


Old  English  Verse  179 

Thy  saints  are  crown'd  with  glory  great ; 

They  see  God  face  to  face  ; 
They  triumph  still,  they  still  rejoice, 

Most  happy  is  their  case. 

Quite  through  the  streets  with  silver  sound 

The  flood  of  Life  doth  flow  ; 
Upon  whose  banks  on  every  side 

The  wood  of  Life  doth  grow. 

Our  sweet  is  mix'd  with  bitter  gall. 

Our  pleasure  is  but  pain, 
Our  joys  scarce  last  the  looking  on, 

Our  sorrows  still  remain. 

Ah,  my  sweet  home,  Jerusalem, 

Would  God  I  were  in  thee  ! 
Would  God  my  woes  were  at  an  end, 

Thy  joys  that  I  might  see  !  ^ 

Two  very  favourite  old  carols,  the  history  of  which 
is  not  known,  may  perhaps  date  from  the  sixteenth 
century.  One  is  that  beginning — '  God  rest  you,  merry 
gentlemen  ; '  the  other,  '  A  virgin  most  pure,  as  the 
prophets  do  tell' 

The  psalmody  of  the  Reformed  Church  began  in 
England  in  Henry  the  Eighth's  time.  About  1539  Miles 
Coverdale  published  versions  of  thirteen  of  the  Psalms, 
together  with  Certain  Spiritual  Songs,  many  of  which 
are  borrowed  from  the  German.  He  intended  them 
not  only  '  for  the  comfort  and  consolation  of  such  as 
love  to  rejoice  in  God  and  His  Word,'  but  also  with 
a  hope  of  supplanting  foolish  songs  among  the  young. 
On  the  title-page  he  addresses  his  book  in  rhyme,  and 
after  commending  it  first  to  the  lover  of  God's  Word, 
he  continues — 

Go,  lytle  Boke,  amonge  men's  chyldren, 

And  get  the  to  theyr  companye. 
Teach  them  to  synge  the  Commaundements  ten 

And  other  Ballettes  of  God's  glorye  : 

Be  not  ashamed  ;  I  warrande  the, 
Thogh  thou  be  rude  in  songe  and  ryme. 

Thou  shalt  to  youth  some  occasion  be 
In  godly  sports  to  pass  theyr  tyme. 

^  Roundell  Palmer's  Book  of  Praise,  p.  120,  and  his  note,  p.  492. 


1 80  Religious  Thought  in 

They  do  not,  however,  appear  to  have  gained  much 
circulation.  They  certainly  did  not  deserve  it.  His 
versions  of  the  Psalms^  have  no  pretension  to  poetical 
expression,  and  not  much  to  either  rhyme  or  measure. 
It  must  have  been  very  difficult  to  sing  a  verse  like 
this  :— 

The  waves  of  waters  had  wrapped  us  in  ; 

Our  soul  had  gone  under  the  flood  : 
The  deep  waters  of  these  proud  men 

Had  run  our  souls  over  where  they  stood. 
The  Lord  be  praised  every  hour, 
That  would  not  suffer  them  us  to  devour, 

Nor  in  their  teeth  to  suck  our  blood. 

Thomas  Sternhold,  Groom  of  the  King's  Chamber, 
published  nineteen  psalms  in  1549,  and  dedicated  them 
to  Edward  the  Sixth.  In  155 1  he  increased  them  to 
thirty -seven.  Others  were  added,  after  Sternhold's 
death,  by  John  Hopkins,  and  the  collection  was  further 
added  to  by  the  English  exiles  of  Geneva.^  It  was 
finally  completed,  printed  with  the  tunes,  and  'allowed ' 
in  churches,  in  1562.  In  Scotland  it  was  very  generally 
adopted,  with  some  alterations,  after  1564.  Among 
other  versions  of  the  Psalms  published  in  England  for 
popular  use  in  the  sixteenth  century  may  be  mentioned 
one  by  John  Daye,  in  1563,  one  by  John  Bull  in  1579, 
and  another  by  Thomas  Este  in  1592.  In  England,  as 
in  Scotland  and  in  Reformed  Churches  abroad,  psalm- 
singing  became,  as  the  century  advanced,  a  powerful 
religious  agent.  Bishop  Jewell  said,  in  one  of  his  letters, 
that  at  St.  Paul's  Cross,  after  service,  you  might  some- 
times see  six  thousand  persons  singing  them.^ 

The  Glide  and  Godlie  Ballates,  otherwise  entitled  A 
Compendious  Book  of  Psalms  a7id  Spiritual  Songs,  appear 
to  have  been  first  published  in  1570,  in  Scotland.     The 

^  They  may  be  found  in  the  edition  of  Coverdale's  works,  published 
by  the  Parker  Society. 

-  D.  Laing's  Preface  to  his  edition  of  T/ie  Gude  and  Godlie  Ballates^ 
p.  XXX.,  to  which  I  am  also  indebted  for  other  information  on  sixteenth 
century  psalmody. 

2  Id.  p.  xxxii. 


Old  English  Ve^^se  1 8 1 

compilers  and,  to  some  extent,  the  authors,  of  it  are 
supposed  to  have  been  John  and  Robert  Wedderburn. 
John  was  a  priest  at  Dundee,  who  adopted  the  Reformed 
faith.  He  then  fled  to  Germany,  '  heard  Luther  and 
Melanchthon,  and  became  very  fervent  and  zealous/ 
He  returned  to  his  country  in  1542,  but  had  to  fly 
from  Cardinal  Beaton  into  England.  His  younger 
brother  Robert  was  Vicar  of  Dundee,  and  also  had  to 
take  refuge  abroad.^  The  Book  of  Godly  Ballads  was 
mainly  written  abroad,  and  was  largely  made  up  of 
translations  from  the  psalms  and  hymns  of  Germany, 
many  of  which  were,  in  their  turn,  old  Latin  hymns, 
translated  and  adapted.  Among  the  renderings  from 
the  German  comes  Luther's  well-known  Christmas  song, 
Von  Hinimel  hock  da  komm  ich  Jier,  familiar  to  English 
readers  in  Miss  Winkworth's  translation,  From  heaven 
above  to  earth  I  come.  In  Wedderburn's  version  it 
begins : — 

I  come  from  heaven  to  tell 

The  best  Nowell  that  e'er  befell : 

To  you  these  tidings  true  I  bring, 

And  I  will  of  them  say  and  sing. 

The  version  of  the  Psalms,  though  very  superior  to 
Coverdale's,  is  not  remarkable.  The  most  interesting 
part  of  the  book  is  the  third  section  of  it,  which  mainly 
consists  of  popular  songs  and  ballads  '  changed  to  godly 
purposes.'  Throughout  the  sixteenth  century  this  was 
evidently  a  frequent  practice,  and  was  by  no  means 
confined,  as  is  sometimes  supposed,  to  particular  Pro- 
testant churches.  An  ancient  collection  of  hymns, 
printed  at  Venice  in  1 5 12,  shows  that  it  was  then  a 
general  custom  in  Italy  to  sing  pious  hymns  to  profane 
and  popular  melodies.^  So  also  a  Roman  Catholic 
version  of  the  Psalms  in  Flemish  verse,  printed  in  1540, 
has  the  first  line  of  a  ballad  printed  at  the  head  of  every 
Psalm.  It  was,  however,  a  much  more  commion  usage 
among   the   Protestant  Churches  of  Holland,  France, 

^  jM'Crie's  Life  of  Knox  ^  quoted  in  Mr.  D.  Laing's  Preface. 

-  Roscoe's  Lorenzo  de  Medici^  quoted  in  Mr.  D.  Laing's  Preface. 


1 82  Religious  Thought  in 

and  Switzerland.  Coverdale  and  others  introduced  the 
custom  into  England  ;  and  the  same  was  done  by 
Wedderburn  and,  a  little  later,  by  Youll  in  Scotland. 

We  are  used  in  certain  hymn-books  of  our  own  days, 
especially  in  those  of  a  more  or  less  revivalist  tone,  to 
jingles  and  choruses,  which  undoubtedly  delight  the 
ears  of  the  majority  of  those  congregations  to  which 
they  are  particularly  addressed,  but  which  seem  sadly 
deficient  in  dignity,  if  not  in  reverence,  to  more  culti- 
vated and  self-restrained  minds.  How  acceptable  to 
a  coloured  congregation  in  Carolina  would  be  the  hymn 
of  which  I  quote  the  first  verses,  and  with  what  gusto 
it  would  be  sung  ! — 

Quho  [who]  is  at  my  windo  ?     Quho,  quho  ? 
Go  from  my  windo,  go,  go  ! 
Quho  callis  thair,  sa  lyke  a  strangair  ? 
Go  from  my  windo,  go  ! 

Lord,  I  am  heir  [here],  ane  wretchit  mortal, 
That  for  Thy  mercy  dois  cry  and  call 
Unto  The,  my  Lord  Celestiall. 

Se  quho  is  at  thy  windo,  quho. 

How  dare  thow  for  mercy  cry, 
Sa  lang  in  sin  as  thow  dois  ly  ? 
Mercy  to  have  thou  art  not  worthy. 
Go  from  my  windo,  go  ! 

Nay,  I  call  the  nocht  fra  my  dure  I  wis, 
Lyke  any  stranger  that  unknawin  is  ; 
Thow  art  my  brother,  and  my  will  it  is, 
That  in  at  my  dure  thow  go.^ 

It  is  almost  more  startling  still  to  find  in  a  collection 
of  Godly  Ballads  one  beginning 

With  huntis  up,  with  huntis  up  ; 
It  is  now  partite  day. 

This  is  the  beginning,  not  exactly  of  a  hymn,  but  of  a 
Protestant  song,  which  goes  on  to  tell  that  it  is  the 
King  of  men  is  gone  a-hunting,  that  the  Apostles  are 
the  hounds,  and  the  Pope  the  fox. 

1  Gtide  and  Godlie  Ballates,  ]i.  ii6. 


Old  English  Verse  183 

But  there  is  much  that  is  touching  in  the  following  : — 

All  my  hart,  ay  this  is  my  sang, 
With  dowbill  mirth  and  joy  amang ; 
As  blyith  as  byrd  my  God  to  fang  [lay  hold  upon]  : 
Christ  hes  my  hart  ay. 

Quha  [who]  hes  my  hart  hot  heuinnis  King  ? 
Quhilk  causis  me  for  joy  to  sing, 
Quhome  that  I  love  atouir  [above]  all  thing  : 
Christ  hes  my  hart  ay. 

He  is  fair,  sober,  and  bening  [benign], 
Sweil,  meik,  and  gentill  in  all  thing, 
Maist  worthiest  to  have  louing  : 
Christ  hes  my  hart  ay. 

For  vs  that  blissil  barne  [bairn]  was  borne  ; 
For  vs  He  was  baith  rent  and  torne  ; 
For  us  He  was  crownit  with  thorne  : 
Christ  hes  my  hart  ay. 

For  vs  He  sched  His  precious  blude  ; 
For  vs  He  was  naillit  on  the  rude  ; 
For  us  He  mony  battell  stude  : 
Christ  hes  my  hart  ay, 

Nixt  Him  to  lufe  His  Mother  fair, 
With  steidfast  hart,  for  ever  mair  ; 
Scho  bure  [she  bare]  the  byrth,  fred  vs  from  cair : 
Christ  hes  my  hart  ay. 

We  pray  to  God  that  sittis  abufe, 
Fra  Him  let  neuer  our  hartis  remufe, 
Nor  for  na  suddand  worldly  lufe  : 
Christ  hes  my  hart  ay, 

He  is  the  lufe  of  luivaris  [lovers]  all 
He  cummis  on  vs  when  we  call, 
For  vs  he  drank  the  bitter  gall  : 
Christ  hes  my  hart  ay.^ 

The  following  also  we  can  well  imagine  to  have  been 
popular,  and  not  without  reason,  for  its  refrain  rather 
clings  on  the  ear.     I  quote  the  first  three  verses : — 

All  my  Lufe,  leif  me  not, 

Leif  me  not,  leif  me  not  ; 
All  my  Lufe,  leif  me  not 

Thus  myne  alone, 

.    ^  Glide  and  Godlie  Ballates,  p,  122. 


184  Religious  Thought  in 

With  ane  burding  on  my  bak, 
I  may  not  beir  it  I  am  sa  waik  ; 
Lufe,  this  burden  from  me  tak 
Or  ellis  I  am  gone. 

With  sinnis  I  am  ladin  soir  [sore] 

Leif  me  not,  leif  me  not ; 
With  sinnes  I  am  ladin  soir, 

Leif  me  not  alone. 
I  pray  The,  Lord,  thairfoir 
Keip  not  my  sinnes  in  stoir 
Lowse  [loose]  me,  or  I  be  forloir  [forlorn] 

And  heir  my  mone. 

With  Thy  handis  Thou  lies  me  brocht, 

Leif  me  not,  leif  me  not  ; 
With  Thy  handis  Thou  lies  me  brocht, 

Leif  me  not  alone. 
I  was  sauld,  and  thou  me  bocht 
With  Thy  blude  Thow  hes  me  coft  [purchased]  ; 
Now  am  I  bidder  socht 

To  The,  Lord,  alone. 

The  following  verses  are  a  portion  of  a  good  speci- 
men of  this  sort  of  verse.  The  subject  is  the  Passion 
of  our  Saviour,  who  is  represented  as  setting  forth  to 
His  Mother  His  purposes  of  salvation  for  man.  In  its 
whole  form  it  is  a  close  imitation  of  The  Niitbrown 
Maid.  I  extract  a  short  passage  in  which  the  duty  of 
man  to  man  is  spoken  of,  and  the  great  hope  he  is  to 
set  before  him  : — 

The  poor  in  need 
To  clothe  and  feed. 

Part  of  his  rent  and  wage 
He  must  bestow  ; 
Remembering  how 

All  came  of  one  lynage  [lineage]. 
Forsaking  sin 
He  may  me  win, 

And  to  mine  heritage 
I  shall  him  take. 
His  soul  to  make 

My  spouse  in  marriage. 
For  to  persever 
With  me  for  ever. 

*  Gude  and  Godlie  Bal/ates,  p.  192. 


Old  English  Verse  185 

With  joy  she  may  say  then, 
That  she  hath  won 
A  kinge's  son, 

And  not  a  banished  man. 

Sir  David  Lyndesay  (1490-15 58)  was  a  keen  and 
vigorous  observer  of  the  great  religious  movement  of 
his  time.  He  was  admitted  early  into  the  service  of 
the  Scottish  Court,  was  knighted  and  created  Lyon 
King  of  Arms,  and  served  in  several  important  missions 
to  foreign  powers.  A  Protestant  by  natural  character, 
he  openly  espoused  the  cause  of  the  Reformation  in 
1566.  Even  before  that  time  the  rising  party  had  owed 
not  a  little  to  the  wit  and  energy  with  which,  in  his 
voluminous  verse  writings,  he  had  borne  witness  against 
the  corruptions  of  the  predominant  church.  The 
earnestness  of  his  religious  feeling  is  very  unmistakable. 
His  principal,  as  it  was  also  his  latest,  work,  entitled 
The  Monarchy,  is  a  long  poem  of  6000  lines  on  the  rise 
and  fall  of  nations.  In  the  beginning  of  it,  like  Milton, 
he  invokes,  he  says,  no  Muse  but  the  Great  God  Him- 
self, 

He  who  gave  sapience  to  Solomon, 

To  David  grace,  strength  to  the  strong  Sampson  ; 

and  then,  with  a  prayer  to  the  Saviour  who  died  for  us 
upon  the  Cross, 

Wherefore  I  shall  beseech  God's  excellence 
To  grant  me  grace,  wisdom  and  eloquence. 
And  bathe  me  with  those  dulce  and  balmy  strands, 

Which  on  the  Cross  did  speedily  outspring 
From  His  most  tender  feet  and  heavenly  hands  : 
And  grant  me  grace  to  write  nor  endite  nothing 
But  His  high  honours  and  his  dear  loving, 
Without  whose  help  there  may  no  good  be  wrought 
To  His  pleasure,  good  word,  or  work,  or  thought.^ 

The  following  are  some  lines  on  those  capacities  of 
man's  spiritual  nature  which  no  mere  earthly  thing  can 
satisfy.  He  had  been  speaking  of  the  dissatisfaction 
of  Solomon,  and  all  his  wealth  and  wisdom  : — 

^  Sir  D.  Lyndesay  in  The  Monarchy,  Prologue,  E.E.T.S.  I2  ;  'The 
quhilk  gaif  sapience  to  King  Salomone. ' 


1 86  Religious  Thought  in 

My  son,  the  sooth  if  thou  vvouldst  know, 

The  verity  I  shall  thee  show. 

There  is  no  worldly  thing  at  all 

May  satisfy  a  human  soul. 

For  it  is  so  unsatiable, 

That  heaven  and  earth  may  not  be  able 

One  soul  alone  to  make  content, 

Till  it  see  God  omnipotent. 

Was  never  none,  nor  ne'er  shall  be 

Satiate,  that  sight  till  that  he  see. 

There  is  often  not  a  little  bitterness  in  his  invectives 
against  the  corruptions  of  the  Church,  but  it  is  ever  the 
things  which  lie  at  the  heart  of  religion  which  are  dear- 
est to  him.  After  a  prayer  expressed  with  a  sort  of 
fierceness  of  craving  that  God  might  *  make  an  hasty 
reformation  on  them  which  do  tramp  down  the  gracious 
word,'  he  concludes  : 

O  Lord  !  I  mak  the  supplicatioun, 

Supporte  our  Faith,  our  Hope,  and  Charityie.^ 

So  also  when  he  speaks  of  confession.  It  will  not,  I 
hope,  be  thought  inconsistent  with  my  purpose  in  this 
work  of  careful  avoiding  controversial  questions,  if  I  quote 
a  few  lines.  For  it  was  a  point  on  which  Lyndesay 
held  quite  moderate  views.  He  saw  not  harm,  but 
good,  in  occasionally  seeking  religious  counsel  and 
advice  in  a  spiritual  trouble.  He  aimed  his  shafts  against 
the  abuses  of  the  system  : — 

And  mickle  Latin  he  did  mummill, 
I  heard  no  thing  but  hummil  bummil. 
He  showed  me  noght  of  God'es  word, 
Which  sharper  is  than  any  sword, 
And  deep  into  our  heart  doth  print 
Our  sin,  wherethrough  we  do  repent. 
He  put  me  nothing  into  fear 
Wherethrough  I  should  my  sin  forbear  ; 
He  showed  me  not  the  malediction 
Of  God  for  sin,  nor  the  affliction, 
And  in  this  life  the  great  mischief, 
Ordained  to  punish  lust  and  thief; 

^  Lyndesay's  Fourth  Book  of  The  Monarchy^  5040-9  :  '  My  sonne,  the 
suth  gyf  thow  wald  knaw.' 

-  Lyndesay's  Fourth  Book  of  The  Monarchy^  2706-8. 


Old  English  Verse  187 

Nor  showed  he  me  of  hell'es  pain 

That  I  might  fear  and  vice  refrain. 

He  counselled  me  not  to  abstain, 

And  lead  a  holy  life  and  clean. 

Of  Christ'es  blood  no  thing  he  knew, 

Nor  of  His  promises  full  true, 

That  save  all  such  as  will  believe 

That  Satan  shall  us  never  grieve  ; 

He  taught  me  not  that  I  should  trust 

The  comfort  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

He  bade  me  not  to  Christ  be  kind  [made  kin  to]  ; 

To  keep  his  law  with  heart  and  mind. 

And  love  and  thank  his  great  mercy 

From  sin  and  hell  that  saved  me  ; 

And  love  my  neighbour  as  my  self ; 

Of  this  no  thing  he  could  me  tell. 
But  only  prescribed  certain  forms  and  penances  and 
pilgrimages  which  only  lead  to  harm. 

To  the  great  God  omnipotent 

Confess  thy  sin  and  sore  repent  ; 

And  trust  in  Christ  (as  writeth  Paul) 

Who  shed  His  blood  to  save  thy  soul ; 

For  none  can  thee  absolve  but  He, 

Nor  take  away  thy  sin  from  thee. 

If  of  good  counsel  thou  hast  need 

Or  has  not  learned  well  thy  creed. 

Or  wicked  vices  reign  in  thee 

The  which  thou  canst  not  mortifie, 

Or  be  in  desperation 

And  would  have  consolation. 

Then  to  a  preacher  true  go,  pass. 

And  show  thy  sin  and  thy  trespass  ; 

Thou  needest  not  to  show  him  all. 

Nor  tell  thy  sin  both  great  and  small, 

Which  is  impossible  to  be, 

But  show  the  vice  that  troubles  thee, 

And  he  shall  of  thy  soul  have  ruth, 

And  thee  instruct  into  the  truth. 

And  with  the  word  of  verity 

Shall  comfort  and  shall  counsel  thee  ; 

The  Sacraments  show  thee  at  length, 

Thy  little  faith  to  stark  and  strength[en] 

And  how  thou  shouldst  them  rightly  use 

And  all  hypocrisy  refuse  ; 

Confession  first  was  ordained  free 

In  this  sort  in  the  Church  to  be.' 

^  Lyndesays  Kitteis  Confessioun^  E.E.T.S.  47  :  'And  mekle  Latyne  he 
did  mummil.' 


1 88  Religious  TJiought  in 

The  following,  by  an  unknown  author,  is  from  the 
Bannatyne  Manuscript,  a  valuable  collection  of  Scotch 
verse  compiled  in  1568  by  George  Bannatyne: — 

O  God,  that  in  time  all  things  didst  begin, 

In  time  Thou  madest  earth  and  heaven  of  nought ; 

In  time  Thou  boughtest  man,  redeemed  his  sin  ; 

In  time  shalt  Thou  unmake  what  Thou  hast  wrought  ; 

In  time  are  safe  all  that  Thy  blood  hast  bought : 

In  time,  good  Lord,  give  peace,  so  that  we  may 

In  time  repent  for  every  deed  and  thought — 

Time  in  good  time,  for  time  will  soon  away. 

Our  time  shall  pass  away,  and  in  short  space  ; 
Time  beareth  witness  what  I  say  is  true  ; 
Our  fathers  had  time  here  in  the  like  cause. 
Time  passed  with  them,  as  with  us  passeth  now  ; 
Time  tarried  not  with  them  ;  away  time  drew, 
They  tarried  yet  a  time,  as  we  to-day ; 
And  time  shall  pass  from  us,  God  knoweth  how  : 
Take  time,  while  time  doth  last ;  time  will  away. 

In  time  ask  grace  ;  in  time  take  thou  compassion  ; 
In  time  of  wealth  mind  time  of  wretched  need  ; 
In  time  give  praise  ;  in  time  make  God  oblation 
In  time  fast,  pray  ;  and  give  in  time  almsdeed  ; 
In  time  offer  thy  heart  ;  for  time  doth  still  proceed  ; 
Trusting  to  time,  so  time  shall  thee  betray  ; 
Speak  thou  in  time,  that  so  in  time  thou  speed  ; 
Take  time  while  time  doth  last  ;  time  will  away. 

Now  time  draws  in,  and  time  goeth  apace  ; 

Trust  not  to  time,  lest  time  shall  thee  assail  ; 

Now  is  the  time  of  mercy  and  of  grace  ; 

The  time  of  penitence,  time  to  bewail  ; 

Take  thou  this  time,  that  time  shall  not  prevail ; 

This  is  the  time  of  measure  ;  that  is  the  time  of  joy  ; 

This  time  shall  have  an  end  ;  that  time  shall  never  fail. 

But  live  thou  loose  from  time,  lest  time  lift  all  away.^ 

William  Lauder  \vas  a  Scotch  poet  who  was  born 
about  1520,  and  died  in  1573.  His  earlier  productions 
were  the  plays  or  semi-religious  Moralities  which  were 

1  The  Bannatyne  ms.,  printed  for  the  Hunterian  Club,  1875,  p.  227 : 
O  God  !  that  in  tyme  all  thingis  did  begin, 
In  tyme  thow  maid  hevin  and  erd  of  nocht ! 


Old  English  Vei'se  189 

then  popular.  One  of  these  was  performed  In  1554,  at 
the  expense  of  the  Edinburgh  magistrates,  on  occasion 
of  the  entrance  into  Edinburgh  of  the  Queen  Regent, 
Mary  of  Guise :  another,  in  which  the  seven  planets 
were  principal  personages,  was  performed  in  1558,  in 
celebration  of  the  marriage  of  the  Queen  of  Scots.  He 
soon  afterwards  joined  the  Reformers,  and  was  ad- 
mitted as  a  minister  in  the  Presbytery  of  Perth.  In 
1556  he  wrote,  in  a  somewhat  stern  tone,  on  the  office 
and  duty  of  kings.  His  austere  language  was  doubtless 
not  unwarranted,  for  there  was  no  less  lawlessness  and 
misrule  in  Scotland  than  in  the  preceding  century. 
There  is  a  fervour  not  unlike  that  of  a  Hebrew  prophet 
in  words  such  as  these  : — 

And  partiality  smores  [smothers]  down 
Justice  in  every  land  and  town. 

They  know  themselves  that  gifts  be  ta'en, 

To  hurt  the  poor,  and  then  let  free 

The  rich  ;  O  Lord,  to  this  have  ee  [eye], 

And  help  the  poor  that  are  in  stress, 

Harried  by  robbers  merciless. 

Know,  kings,  that  there  is  no  refuge. 

Except  your  judges  justly  judge 

The  cause  of  every  creature 

Both  of  the  rich  and  of  the  poor, 

Your  crown,  your  sceptre,  sword  and  wand. 

They  shall  be  ta'en  out  of  your  hand. 

And  given  to  those,  from  you  and  yours. 

That  will  do  justice  at  all  hours. 

The  malediction  of  the  poor 

Shall  on  you  and  your  seed  endure 

Until  that  ye  be  rooted  out. 

This  shall  not  fail,  without  a  doubt, 

But  it  shall  light,  when  God  shall  please, 

Howe'er  so  much  ye  live  at  ease. 

Though  God  a  while  o'erlooks  it  now, 

Yet  He,  who  doth  behold  and  know, 

Shall  judge  ye  when  ye  least  shall  ween 

And  turn  your  mirth  and  joy  to  teen.^ 

^  Lauder's  Compendious  and  Brief  Tractate  for  the  Faithfitl  Instruction 
of  Kings  and  Princes^  ed.  by  FitzEdward  Hall,  E.E.T.S.  4,  1.  433: 
'  Quhilk  percialytye  smoris  doun. ' 


iQO  Religions  Thought  in 

So  also  in  one  of  his  minor  poems,  The  Lamentation, 
published  in  1568,  a  year  of  famine  and  plague: — 

This  world  is  worse  than  ever  it  was, 

Of  mischief  full  and  all  malure  [malheur], 

As  false  and  fragile  as  the  glass. 

How  long,  Lord,  shall  this  world  endure?^ 

Very  little  is  known  of  Alexander  Montgomery, 
though  his  poems  were  once  very  popular  in  Scotland. 
He  was  born  in  Ayrshire,  probably  about  1540,  and 
died  in  the  last  decade  of  the  sixteenth  century.  He  is 
spoken  of  as  Captain  Montgomery,  and  about  1580  was 
employed  in  the  Scottish  Court.  His  allegory  of  TJie 
Cherry  and  the  Sloe  was  his  most  popular  work.  Among 
his  devotional  poems  is  the  following: — 
Non  tardes  converti  ad  Deum. 

Let  dread  of  pain  for  sin  in  aftertime, 
.  Let  shame  to  see  thyself  ensnared  so, 
Let  grief  conceived  for  foul  accursed  crime, 

Let  hate  of  sin,  the  worker  of  thy  wo, 
With  dread,  with  shame,  with  grief,  with  hate,  enforce, 
To  dew  thy  cheeks  with  tears,  to  deep  remorse. 

So,  hate  of  sin  shall  make  God's  love  to  grow  ; 

So,  grief  shall  harbour  hope  within  thine  heart  ; 
So,  dread  shall  cause  the  flood  of  joy  to  flow  ; 

So,  shame  shall  send  sweet  solace  to  thy  smart ; 
So  love, — so  hope, — so  joy, — so  solace  sweet, 
Shall  make  thy  soul  in  heavenly  bliss  to  fleet. 

Wo,  where  no  hate  doth  no  such  love  allure  ! 

Wo,  where  such  grief  makes  no  such  hope  proceed  ! 
Wo,  where  such  dread  doth  not  such  joy  procure  ! 

Wo,  where  such  shame  doth  not  such  solace  breed  ! 
Wo,  where  no  hate,  no  grief,  no  dread,  no  shame — 
No  love,  no  hope,  no  joy,  no  solace  frame  !  ^ 

Declina  a  malo,  et  fac  bonam. 

Leave  sin,  ere  sin  leave  thee  ;  do  good, 

And  both  without  delay  : 
Less  fit  he  will  to-morrow  be 

Who  is  not  fit  to-day.^ 

^  Lauder's  Minor  Poems,   ed.    by  Furnivall,    E.  E.T.S.    41,   1.    26: 
*  This  warld  is  war  nor  ever  it  was. ' 

-  Poems  of  Alex.  Montgomery,  ed.  by  D.  Irving,  1821,  p.  276. 
3  Id.  271. 


Old  English  Verse  191 

Alexander  Hume  {c.  1 550-1609),  son  of  Patrick 
fifth  Baron  of  Polwarth,  published  his  poems  in  1599. 
Among  them  is  a  hymn  of  thanksgiving  and  triumph, 
written  after  the  defeat  of  the  Spanish  Armada  in  1588. 
He  calls  it  The  Song  of  the  Lord's  Soldiours.  It  begins, 
*  O  King  of  Kings,  that  sits  above,'  and  tells  with  awe- 
struck and  wondering  gratitude  of  the  *  means  unlooked 
for  by  men,'  whereby  victory  was  given  : — 

Men  may  imagine,  men  may  devise, 
Men  may  conclude,  and  enterprise, 
But  Thou  dost  modify  the  end. 

As  wax  is  melted  by  the  fire, 

So  by  the  Lord's  consuming  ire 
The  might  of  man  melts  clean  away  ; 

To  such  as  constantly  believes 

Courage  and  good  success  He  gives. 
And  will  not  see  their  cause  decay. 

Though  for  a  time  the  proud  prevail. 

Their  glass  will  run,  their  force  prevail 
Unto  the  Lord's  eternal  glore  : 

And  when  before  our  foes  we  fall, 

Be  sure  our  sins  are  cause  of  all, 
Which  we  should  earnestly  deplore. 

O  Jah,  our  God,  be  Thou  our  guide, 

In  battles  be  Thou  on  our  side. 
And  we  shall  neither  fall  nor  flee  ; 

Through  Christ  Thy  Son  our  sins  forgive. 

And  make  us  in  Thy  law  to  live, 
That  we  may  praise  and  worship  Thee.^ 

He  wrote  also  a  bright,  pretty  poem  of  Thanks  for  a 
Summer  Day,  full  of  warmth  and  glow  and  sunlight. 
It  begins : — 

O  perfite  light  !  quhilk  schaid  [parted]  away 

The  darkness  from  the  light ; 

and  carries  us  from  sweet  dawn  to  hot  noon,  till  at 
length  the  sun  goes  down  in  splendour  : 

The  gloming  comes,  the  day  is  spent, 

The  sun  goes  out  of  sight. 
And  painted  is  the  Occident 
With  purple  sanguine  bright. 

=    ^  Hume's  Poems  in  Sibbald's  Chronicle  of  Scottish  Poet}y,  vol.  ii.  p.  384. 


192  Religiotts  Thought  in 

The  scarlet  nor  the  golden  thread, 

Who  would  their  beauty  try, 
Are  nothing  like  the  colour  red, 

And  beauty  of  the  sky. 

Each  tree  is  mirrored  perfectly  in  the  stream's  clear 
depth,  the  trout  are  leaping,  the  air  is  musical  with 
rustic  sounds,  such  as  might  well  tempt  men  to  join  in 
the  hymn  of  peace  : — 

O  !  then  it  were  a  seemly  thing 

While  all  is  still  and  calm, 
The  praise  of  God  to  play  and  sing 

With  cornet  and  with  shalme. 

All  labourers  draw  home  at  even 

And  can  to  other  say. 
Thanks  to  the  gracious  God  of  heaven 

Who  sent  this  summer  day.^ 

James  the  First  of  England  (1603-1625  ;  James  Vl. 
of  Scotland,  1 567-1603)  would  perhaps  have  valued 
above  all  other  distinctions  the  fame  of  a  poet  and 
philosopher.  '  But  sen,  alas  !  (as  he  once  wrote)  God 
by  nature  hath  denied  me  the  like  lofty  and  quick 
ingyne,  ...  I  was  forced  to  have  refuge  to  the  secound, 
which  was  to  do  what  lay  in  me  to  set  forth  the  praise 
of  others  when  I  could  not  merit  the  like  by  myself.' 
And  certainly  it  was  no  small  merit  in  this  somewhat 
awkward  and  ungainly  monarch  that,  whatever  may 
have  been  his  other  defects,  he  was  at  all  events  quite 
in  earnest  in  his  patronage  of  genius  and  learning. 
Still  if  not  a  poet,  he  was  at  all  events  a  rhymer,  and 
now  and  then  attained  a  somewhat  higher  level,  as  in 
the  following  sonnet,  published  in  1591,  at  the  same 
time  as  his  Victory  of  Lepanto.  I  quote  without 
modernising  any  of  the  words  : — 

The  azured  vaulte,  the  crystall  circles  bright, 
The  gleaming  fyrie  torches  powdred  there. 
The  changing  sound,  the  shyning  beamie  light, 
The  sad  and  bearded  fyres,  the  monsters  faire, 

1  Hicmc's  Poems  in  Sibbald's  Chronicle  of  Scotiish  Poetry,  vol.  ii.  p.  384. 


Old  English  Verse  193 

The  prodiges  appearing  in  the  aire, 
The  rearding  thunders,  and  the  blustering  winds. 
The  foules  in  hew,  in  shape,  in  nature  raire, 
The  prettie  notes  that  wing'd  musicians  finds  ; 
In  earth  the  sav'rie  floures,  the  mettal'd  minds  [mines], 
The  wholesome  hearbes,  the  hautie  pleasant  trees, 
The  sylver  streames,  the  beasts  of  sundrie  kinds, 
The  bounded  roares,  and  fishes  of  the  seas, — 
All  these  for  teaching  man  the  Lord  did  frame 
To  do  His  will,  whose  glory  shines  in  thame.^ 

The  following  stanza  may  be  quoted,  not  for  its 
poetry,  but  for  the  praiseworthy  sentiment  on  the  part 
of  its  royal  author,  from  Ane  ScJiort  Poevie  of  Tyine, 
which  he  wrote  as  he  was  '  pausing '  [musing]  in  the 
fields  at  sunrise  one  fair  summer  morning,  when  he  could 
not  sleep  nor  nowise  take  his  rest : — 

But  sen  that  tyme  is  sic  a  precious  thing, 

I  wald  we  sould  bestow^  it  into  that 

Quhilk  were  most  pleasour  to  our  heavenly  King. 

Flee  ydilteth  [idleness],  which  is  the  greatest  lat  [let]. 

Bot  sen  that  death  to  all  is  destinat. 

Let  us  employ  that  tyme  that  God  hath  send  us 

In  doing  weill,  that  good  men  may  commend  us.'- 

He  also  translated  about  this  time  some  of  the  Psalms. 
For  example  : — 

For  lyons  young  at  night  beginnis  to  raire, 

And  from  their  denns  to  crave  of  God  some  pray  : 

Then  in  the  morning,  gone  is  all  their  caire, 

And  homeward  to  their  caves  rinnis  fast,  fra  day 

Beginne  to  kythe  [appear]  the  sunne  dois  so  them  fray. 

Then  man  gois  furth,  fra  tyme  the  sunne  dois  ryse, 

And  while  the  evening  he  remains  away 

At  tesume  [tiresome  Y]  labours,  where  his  living  lyes.^ 

His  complete  version  of  the  Psalms  is  of  later  date,  I 
think  after  he  was  King  of  England.  The  following  are 
a  few  lines  from  it : — 


^  From  his  Alaiesties  Poeticall  Exercises  at   Vacant  Houres,    ed.    by 
R.  Gillies,  1814.     'A  sonnet.' 

J  Id.  O.  ill 

^  Id.  N.  iv.    This  particular  Psalm  (the  103rd),  is  a  translation  by  the 
King  from  Tremellius's  Latin  version. 

N 


1 94    Religious  Thought  in  Old  English  Verse 


And  therefore  ye  that  are  great  kings, 

Be  wise  whate'er  befall  ; 
Ye  that  are  judges  of  the  earth, 

Be  well  instructed  all. 
Serve  ye  the  Lord  with  fervent  fear, 

That  He  may  you  protect, 
And  lift  your  heart  aloft  with  joy, 

Yet  trembling  with  respect. ^ 


^  Psalm  ii.  lo.     King  James's /'ja/;/ij,  163 1. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    SEVENTEENTH    CENTURY 

The  only  verses  written  beyond  all  possibility  of 
question  by  Lord  Bacon  are  Certaine  Psalmes  written 
by  him  during  a  sickness  in  1624,  and  dedicated  'to  his 
very  good  friend,'  George  Herbert.  *  Where  divinity  and 
poesy  met,  he  could  not,'  he  said,  *  make  better  choice.' 
The  religious  musings  of  so  great  a  man  would  have  an 
interest  of  their  own  even  if  they  were  wholly  devoid  of 
all  poetical  value.  But,  in  themselves,  they  by  no 
means  deserve  the  tone  of  disparagement  in  which  they 
have  sometimes  been  spoken  of.  The  104th  Psalm,  for 
instance,  that  noble  hymn  of  Creation,  is  one  that  he 
paraphrases  with  much  vigour.  He  seems  to  join  in  it 
from  his  heart : — 

Father  and  King  of  powers,  both  high  and  low, 
Whose  sounding  fame  all  Creatures  serve  to  blow  ; 
My  soul  shall  with  the  rest  strike  up  Thy  praise. 
And  carol  of  Thy  works  and  wondrous  ways. 

As  long  as  life  doth  last  I  hymns  will  sing 
With  cheerful  voice  to  the  Eternal  King  : 
As  long  as  I  have  being,  I  will  praise 
The  works  of  God  and  all  His  wondrous  ways. 
I  know  that  He  my  words  will  not  despise  ; 
Thanksgiving  is  to  Him  a  sacrifice.^ 

Some  particular  expressions  also  in  this  Psalm  are 
worthy  of  note.     For  example  : — 

Thence  round  about  a  silver  veil  doth  fall 
Of  crystal  light,  mother  of  colours  all. 

*   The  Poems  of  Lord  Bacon,  ed.  by  A.  B.  Grosart.  1870. 


196  Religiotts  ThozLght  in 

The  earth  : 

hath  no  pillars  hut  His  sacred  will. 
The  moon  : 

so  constant  in  inconstancy. 
The  sea : 

There  do  the  stately  ships  plough  up  the  floods. 
He  has  given  us  a  vivid  imaginative  picture  in  his 
paraphrase  of  the  137th  Psalm:  — 

Whenas  we  sat  all  sad  and  desolate, 
By  Babylon,  upon  the  river's  side. 

Eased  from  the  tasks,  which  in  our  captive  state 
We  were  enforced  daily  to  abide, — 
Our  harps  w^e  had  brought  with  us  to  the  field 
Some  solace  to  our  heavy  souls  to  yield. 

But  soon  we  found  we  failed  of  our  account  : 
For  when  our  minds  some  freedom  did  obtain, 

Straightways  the  memory  of  Sion's  mount 
Did  cause  afresh  our  wounds  to  bleed  again  ; 
So  that  with  present  griefs  and  future  fears 
Our  eyes  burst  forth  into  a  stream  of  tears. 

As  for  our  harps,  since  sorrow^  stroke  them  dumb, 

We  hanged  them  on  the  wdllow-trees  were  near  ; 
Yet  did  our  cruel  niasters  to  us  come. 

Asking  of  us  some  Hebrew  songs  to  hear. 

Taunting  us  rather  in  our  misery 

Than  much  delighting  in  our  melody. 

Alas,  said  we,  w^ho  can  once  form  or  frame 

His  grieved  and  oppressed  heart  to  sing 
The  praises  of  Jehovah's  glorious  name 

In  banishment,  under  a  foreign  king  ? 

In  Sion  is  His  seat  and  dwelling-place  ; 

Thence  doth  He  show  the  brightness  of  His  face. 

Jerusalem,  where  God  His  throne  hath  set, 

Shall  any  hour  absent  thee  from  my  mind  ? 
Then  let  my  right  hand  quite  her  skill  forget, 
Then  let  my  voice  and  words  no  passage  find  ; 
Nay,  if  I  do  not  Thee  prefer  in  all 
That  in  the  compass  of  my  thoughts  can  fall. 

Although  there  is  not  the  same  certainty  that  the 
following  short  poem  is  by  Lord  Bacon,  there  seems  to 
be  a  very  high  degree  of  probability  that  it  is  his  : — 

The  man  of  life  upright,  whose  guiltless  heart  is  free 
From  all  dishonest  deeds  and  thoughts  of  vanity  : 


Old  English  Verse  197 

The  man  whose  silent  days  in  harmless  joys  are  spent, 
Whom  hopes  can  not  delude,  nor  fortune  discontent  ; 
That  man  needs  neither  tower  nor  annour  for  defence  : 
He  only  can  behold  with  unaffrighted  eyes 
The  horror  of  the  deep,  and  terror  of  the  skies  ; 
Thus  scorning  all  the  care  that  fate  or  fortune  brings, 
He  makes  the  heaven  his  book,  his  wisdom  heavenly  things ; 
Good  thoughts  his  only  friends,  his  wealth  a  well-spent  age. 
The  earth  his  sober  aim  and  quiet  pilgrimage.^ 

The  Princess  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  James  I.,  who 
in  161 3  married  the  Elector  Palatine  Frederic,  and 
was  grandmother  to  George  I.,  gave  Lord  Harington 
some  rather  pretty  verses  composed  by  her,  of  which  I 
quote  a  few  : — 

1. 

This  is  joy,  this  is  true  pleasure, 

If  we  best  things  make  our  treasure, 

And  enjoy  them  at  full  leisure. 

Evermore  in  richest  measure. 

II. 
God  is  only  excellent, — 
Let  up  to  Him  our  love  be  sent  ; 
Whose  desires  are  set  or  bent 
On  ought  else  shall  much  repent. 

IV. 

All  the  vast  world  doth  contain, 
To  content  man's  heart,  are  vain, 
That  still  justly  will  complain. 
And  unsatisfied  remain. 

VI. 

God  most  holy,  high  and  great 
Our  delight  doth  make  complete  ; 
When  in  us  He  takes  his  seat, 
Only  then  we  are  replete. 

VII. 

Why  should  vain  joys  us  transport  ? 
Earthly  pleasures  are  but  short. 
And  are  mingled  in  such  sort. 
Griefs  are  greater  than  the  sport. 


Verses  made  hy  Mr.  Francis  Bacon.     Lord  Bacon's  Poems  (Grosart) 


98  Religious  Thought  in 


XIX. 

O  my  God,  for  Christ  his  sake 
Quite  from  me  this  dulness  take  ; 
Cause  me  earth's  love  to  forsake, 
And  of  heaven  my  realm  to  make. 

XXV. 

What  care  I  for  lofty  place, 
If  the  Lord  grant  me  His  grace. 
Shewing  me  His  pleasant  face, 
And  with  joy  I  end  my  race. 

XXVII. 
O  my  soul,  of  heavenly  birth, 
Do  thou  scorn  this  basest  earth. 
Place  not  here  thy  joy  and  mirth 
Where  of  bliss  is  greatest  dearth. 

XXVIII. 

From  below  thy  mind  remove. 
And  affect  the  things  above, 
Set  thy  heart  and  fix  thy  love 
Where  thou  truest  joy  shall  prove. ^ 

Sir  John  Harington,  created  knight  by  James  I.,  son 
of  the  John  Haryngton  mentioned  in  the  preceding 
chapters,  from  whose  Nugae  Antiquae  the  above  verses 
are  extracted,  has  included  in  the  same  work  some  of 
his  own  versions  of  the  Psalms. 

Sir  John  Beaumont  (i 583-1627),  elder  brother  of 
Francis  Beaumont  the  dramatist,  succeeded  to  the 
family  estates  of  his  ancient  and  honourable  family  in 
1605.  He  was  made  a  baronet  in  1626.  His  son  who 
succeeded  him  fell  on  the  King's  side  at  the  siege  of 
Gloucester.  He  was  himself  a  thorough  royalist,  a  man 
in  whose  loyalty  to  the  throne  was  '  that  self-forgetting 
and  beautiful  devotion,  which  transfigured  the  meanest, 
and  turned  the  Crown  into  an  aureole.'"  But  he  died 
before  the  civil  troubles  began,  having  spent  most  of 
his   life  at  his  pleasant  country  seat  of  Grace-Dieu  in 

^  In  Sir  John  Ilarington's  Nugae  Autiquae,  ii.  411. 
2  Grosart. 


Old  English  Verse  ,  199 

Leicestershire,  'a  gentleman/  says  Burton,  'of  great 
learning,  gravity,  and  worthiness.'  His  reh'gious 
poems  are  full  of  genuine  devotion,  and  contain  many 
beauties,  so  that  it  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  his 
Crowne  of  Thornes,  a  poem  in  eight  books,  has  been 
lost.  Sir  Thomas  Hawkins  wrote  of  it  in  terms  of  great 
admiration. 

The  following  are  a  few  lines  from  his  poem  on  the 
Epiphany,  addressed  to  the  Fazre  Easterne  Starve : — 

Jerusalem  erects  her  stately  towers, 
Displays  her  windows,  and  adorns  her  bowers  ; 
Yet  there  thou  canst  not  cast  a  trembling  spark. 
Let  Herod's  palace  still  continue  dark  : 
Each  school  and  synagogue  thy  force  repels  ; 
There  Pride  enthroned  in  misty  error  dwells. 

While  this  weak  cottage  all  thy  splendour  takes, 
A  joyful  gate  of  every  chink  it  makes. 

Of  the  delights  of  knowledge,  and  of  its  limitation 
he  says  : — 

0  knowledge  !  if  a  heaven  on  earth  could  be, 

1  would  expect  to  reap  that  bliss  in  thee  : 

But  thou  art  blind,  and  they  that  have  thy  light. 
More  clearly  know  they  live  in  darksome  night. 

Here    are   some    touching   lines    Ofi    my   dear    son 
Geruase  Beaumont : — 

Can  I,  who  have  for  others  oft  compiled 
The  songs  of  death,  forget  my  sweetest  child  ? 
Which,  like  a  flower  crushed  with  a  blast,  is  dead 
And  ere  full  time  hangs  down  his  smiling  head, 
Expecting  with  clear  hope  to  live  anew, 
Among  the  angels  fed  with  heavenly  dew. 
We  have  this  sign  of  joy,  that  many  days 
While  on  the  Earth  his  struggling  spirit  stays, 
The  name  of  Jesus  in  his  mouth  contains 
His  only  food,  his  sleep,  his  ease  from  pains. 
O  may  that  sound  be  rooted  in  my  mind 
Of  which  in  him  such  strong  effect  I  find. 
Dear  Lord,  receive  my  son,  whose  winning  love 
To  me  was  like  a  friendship,  far  above 
The  course  of  nature,  or  his  tender  age, 
Whose  looks  could  ail  my  bitter  griefs  assuage. 


200  Relioioiis  ThoitQ-ht  in 

Let  his  pure  soul,  ordain'd  sev'n  yeers  to  be 
In  that  frail  body,  which  was  part  of  me. 
Remain  my  pledge  in  heaven,  as  sent  to  show 
How  to  this  port  at  every  step  I  go. 

There  are  many  verses  by  Sir  John  Beaumont  full 
of  deep  and  sensitive  Christian  feeling  on  sin,  and  hope, 
and  the  comforts  of  grace  and  such  other  essentials  of 
religion.  But  my  last  short  quotation,  chosen  for  its 
play  of  fancy,  must  be  the  concluding  lines  of  a  poem 
written  in  the  last  year  of  his  life  on  the  conjunction  of 
the  two  festivals  of  the  Annunciation  and  the  Resur- 
rection : — 

Let  faithful  souls  this  double  feast  attend 
In  two  processions  :  let  the  first  descend 
The  temple  stairs,  and  with  a  down-cast  eye. 
Upon  the  lowest  pavement  prostrate  lie  ; 
In  creeping  violets,  white  lilies,  shine 
Their  humble  thoughts,  and  every  pure  design. 
The  other  troop  shall  climb,  with  sacred  heat, 
The  rich  degrees  of  Solomon's  bright  seat, 
In  glowing  roses  fervent  zeal  they  bear 
And  in  the  azure  fllower-de-lis  appear 
Celestial  contemplations,  which  aspire 
Above  the  sky,  up  to  th'  immortal  quire.i 

Sir  John  Beaumont's  son,  John,  who  succeeded  to 
the  baronetcy,  and  fell,  as  I  have  said,  at  Gloucester,  a 
man  of  extraordinary  physical  strength,  wrote  in  1638 
an  elegy  ~  not  wanting  in  poetry  but  chiefly  noteworthy 
as  being  in  memory  of  the  Lycidas  oi  Milton,  Edward 
King.  He  must  indeed  have  been  a  good  man,  and 
one  of  no  ordinary  parts,  to  have  won  the  deep  love 
and  admiration  of  men  so  different  as  this  ardent 
Cavalier  and  the  immortal  poet  of  Puritanism. 

Phineas  and  Giles  Fletcher  were  brothers,  both  of 
them  gifted  with  genuine  poetical  feeling.  Their  cousin, 
John  Fletcher,  is  well  known  by  name  as  a  dramatic 
poet.  Their  father  also,  Elizabeth's  ambassador  to 
Muscovy,  was  a  man  of  considerable  literary  ability. 

^  Sir  J.  Beaumont'' s  Poetns^  p.  68, 

-  Appendi.x  to  above  edition  of  Sir  /.  Bcaiunont' s  Poems,  p.  328. 


Old  Enp'lish  Verse  201 


Phineas  ( 1 5  84- 1650)  was  the  elder  of  the  brothers.  He 
was  educated  at  Eton  and  King's  College,  took  orders, 
and  held  the  benefice  of  Hilgay  in  Norfolk.  His 
Purple  Island  was  published  in  1633,  but  had  been 
written  by  him  early  in  life.  It  is  utterly  spoilt  as  a 
poem  by  extraordinary  want  of  judgment  in  the  selec- 
tion of  subject  and  its  mode  of  treatment.  The  Purple 
Island  is  the  body  of  man  pervaded  with  ensanguined 
rills  ;  and  the  first  five  cantos  are  dedicated  to  a  fanci- 
ful description  of  its  anatomy,  a  topic  which  no  possible 
skill  could  make  other  than  displeasing.  The  rest  of 
the  poem  is  more  endurable,  and  contains  beauties 
which  quite  vindicate  it  from  Pope's  very  depreciatory 
criticism.  It  is  a  continuous  allegory,  representing  how 
the  island  is  the  battlefield  of  powers  of  good  and  evil. 
The  virtues,  represented  as  imaginary  characters,  de- 
fend it ;  it  is  attacked  by  a  hideous  host  of  vices  and 
unruly  passions.  In  the  end  Christ  comes  to  the  rescue, 
and  the  story  ends  with  the  espousal  of  the  Redeemer 
with  Eclecta,  His  purified  and  glorious  Church. 

From  Canto  I.  58: — 

O  Thou  deep  well  of  life,  wide  stream  of  love, — 

More  deep,  more  wide  than  widest  deepest  seas, — 
Who,  dying,  death  to  endless  death  didst  prove. 
To  work  this  wilful,  rebel  island's  ease  ; 
Thy  love  no  time  began,  no  time  decays. 
But  still  increaseth  with  decreasing  days  : 
Where  then  may  we  begin,  where  may  we  end  Thy  praise  1 

From  Canto  vi.  74-75  : — 

Receive,  which  we  can  only  back  return 

(Yet  that  we  may  return,  Thou  first  must  give) 
A  heart  which  fain  would  smoke,  which  fain  would  burn 
In  praise  for  Thee,  to  Thee  would  only  live. 
And  Thou  who  sat'st  in  night  to  give  us  day, 
Light  and  inflame  us  with  Thy  glorious  ray. 
That  we  may  back  reflect,  and  borrowed  light  repay. 

So  we,  beholding  with  immortal  eye 

The  glorious  picture  of  Thy  heavenly  face, 

In  his  first  beauty  and  true  majesty. 

May  shake  from  our  dull  souls  these  fetters  base. 


202  Religious  Thought  in 

And  mounting  up  to  that  bright  crystal  sphere, 
Whence  Thou  sirik'st  all  the  world  with  shuddering  fear 
May  not  be  held  by  earih  nor  hold  vile  earth  so  dear. 

From  his  paraphrase  of  Psahn  cxxx. : — 

From  the  deeps  of  grief  and  fear, 

O  Lord,  to  Thee  my  soul  repairs  : 
From  the  heaven  bow  down  Thine  ear  ; 
Let  Thy  mercy  meet  my  prayers. 
O,  if  Thou  markst 

What's  done  amiss, 
What  soul  so  pure 
Can  see  Thy  bliss? 

As  a  watchman  waits  for  day, 

And  looks  for  light,  and  looks  again  ; 
When  the  night  grows  old  and  grey, 
To  be  relieved  he  looks  amain  ; 
So  look,  so  wait, 

So  long  mine  eyes 
To  see  my  Lord, 
My  Sun  arise. 

Wait,  ye  saints,  wait  on  our  Lord  ; 

For  from  His  tongue  sweet  mercy  flows  : 
Wait  on  His  Cross,  wait  on  His  word  ; 
Upon  that  tree  redemption  grows. 
He  will  redeem 

His  Israel 
From  sin  and  wrath 
From  deaih  and  hell. 

Giles  Fletcher  {c.  1 588-1623)  was  two  years  or  more 
younger  than  his  brother  Phineas,  but  died  much 
earHer.  He  was  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  and 
afterwards  held  the  living  of  Alderton  in  Suffolk. 
His  one  poem  is  Chrisfs  F/V-/^/7,  published  in  1610.  It 
is  a  work  the  merits  of  which  have  been  very  variously 
estimated.  Cattermole,  in  his  interesting  selections 
from  the  sacred  poetry  of  the  seventeenth  century,  was 
so  struck  with  what  he  considered  'the  extraordinary 
merit  and  interest  of  it,'  that  he  reprinted  the  whole. 
He  was  anxious,  he  said,  'to  impart  to  others  a  portion 
of  the  delight  with  which  he  had  himself  read  this  ex- 
quisite  poem.'      The  judgment   of  others    is   far  less 


Old  English  Verse  203 

favourable.  For  my  own  part,  I  think  it  an  interesting 
and  readable  book,  and  that  it  contains  some  beautiful 
descriptions,  but  that  it  has  such  serious  faults  as  to 
be  entirely  disqualified  from  a  position  among  sacred 
poems  of  anything  like  the  first  order.  I  should  have 
admired  it  far  more  if  the  subject  had  not  been  such  a 
grave  and  lofty  one.  As  it  is,  it  seems  to  me  ornate, 
too  often  wanting  in  simple  dignity,  too  full  of  affec- 
tation and  flowers  of  fancy.  He  followed  Spenser,  and 
a  subject  somewhat  like  Spenser's  would  have  suited 
Fletcher  better  than  one  akin  to  that  which  Milton 
chose.  And  here  it  should  be  said  that  there  is  strong 
evidence  that  Milton  had  read  the  poem,  and  that  he 
was  influenced  by  his  memories  of  it  both  in  Comiis 
and  in  Paradise  Regained. 

The  first  Book  of  the  poem  tells  of  Chrisfs  Victory 
in  Heaven.  It  describes  the  arraignment  of  man  before 
God  by  Justice,  Mercy  pleading  on  his  behalf,  and  the 
Nativity  of  Christ.  The  following  are  some  of  the  verses 
in  which  Justice  personified  is  finely  portrayed  : — 

X. 

She  was  a  virgin  of  austere  regard  ; 
Not  as  the  world  esteems  her,  deaf  and  blind, 
But  as  the  eagle,  that  hath  oft  compared 
Her  eye  with  heaven's,  so,  and  more  brightly,  shined 
Her  lamping  sight ;  for  she  the  same  could  wind 
Into  the  solid  heart,  and  with  her  ears 
The  silence  of  the  thought  loud  speaking  hears, 
And  in  one  hand  a  pair  of  even  scales  she  wears. 

XV. 

Upon  two  stony  tables  spread  before  her. 
She  lean'd  her  bosom,  more  than  stony  hard  ; 
There  slept  the  impartial  judge,  and  strict  restorer 
Of  wrong  or  right  with  pain  or  with  reward  ; 
There  hung  the  score  of  all  our  debts,  the  card 

Where  good,  and  bad,  and  life,  and  death  were  painted  : 

Was  never  heart  of  mortal  so  untainted, 
But  when  that  scroll  was  read,  with  thousand  terrors  fainted. 

XVI. 

Witness  the  thunder  that  Mount  Sinai  heard. 
When  all  the  mount  with  fiery  clouds  did  flame. 


204  Religious  Thought  in 

And  wondering  Israel,  with  the  sight  afeared, 
BHndcd  with  seeing,  durst  not  touch  the  same, 
But  hke  a  wood  of  shaking  leaves  became. 

On  this,  dread  Justice,  she,  the  living  Law, 

Bowing  herself  with  a  m;HJestic  awe. 
All  heaven,  to  hear  her  speech,  did  into  silence  draw,' 

Of  the  greatness  of  man's  hope  of  Victory  : — 

LXXVI. 

What  hath  man  done  that  man  shall  not  undo, 
Since  God  to  him  is  grown  so  near  akin. 
Did  his  sin  slay  him  ?  he  shall  slay  his  foe  : 
Hath  he  lost  all  ?  he  all  again  shall  win. 
Is  sin  his  master  ?  he  shall  master  sin. 

Too  hard  of  soul  with  sin  the  field  to  try  ? 

The  only  way  to  conquer  was  to  fly. 
But  thus  long  death  hath  lived,  and  now  death's  self  shall  die. 

Of  the  Nativity  of  Christ  :— 

LXXXII. 

The  angels  caroll'd  loud  their  song  of  praise  ; 

The  cursed  oracles  were  strucken  dumb  ; 

To  see  their  Shepherd  the  poor  shepherds  press  ; 

To  see  their  King  the  kingly  sophies  come  ; 

And,  them  to  guide  unto  his  Master's  home, 
A  star  comes  dancing  up  the  orient, 
That  springs  for  joy  over  the  starry  tent, 
Where  gold,  to  make  their  Prince  a  crown,  they  all  present. 

The  second  Book,  entitled  CJirisfs  Triumph  on 
EartJi,  gives  in  an  imaginative  and  rather  fanciful  form 
the  story  of  the  Temptation.  The  Tempter  first  ap- 
pears in  the  guise  of  a  good  old  hermit ;  and  both  in 
this  part  of  the  account  and  in  the  pictures  which 
follow  of  the  Den  of  Despair,  of  the  False  Angel  of  Pre- 
sumption, and  of  the  Garden  of  Vain  Glory,  there  is  no 
lack  of  poetical  power  even  where  there  is  some  offence 
against  religions  taste. 

The  third  Book,  Chrisfs  TriinnpJi  over  Death,  is  the 
story  of  Christ's  sufferings  and  death.  The  following 
are  two  stanzas  upon  the  Hosannas  of  the  multitude  : — 

'   G.  Fletcher'' s  Poems ^  Anderson's  British  Poets,  vol.  iv. 


Old  English  Verse  205 

XXXII 

It  was  but  now  their  sounding  clamours  sang, 
'  Blessed  is  He  that  comes  from  the  most  High  I ' 
And  all  the  mountains  with  '  Hosanna  ! '  rung  ; 
And  now,  '  Away  with  him— away  ! '  they  cry, 
And  nothing  can  be  heard  but  '  Crucify  ! ' 
It  was  but  now,  the  crown  itself  they  save, 
The  golden  name  of  king  unto  Him  gave  ; 
And  now  no  king,  but  only  Caesar  they  will  have. 

XXXIII 

It  was  but  now  they  gathered  blooming  may,        • 
And  of  his  arms  disrob'd  the  branching  tree, 
To  strew  with  boughs  and  blossoms  all  Thy  way  ; 
And  now  the  branchless  trunk  a  cross  for  Thee, 
And  may,  dismayed,  the  coronet  must  be  : 
It  was  but  now  they  were  so  kind  to  throw 
Their  own  best  garments  where  Thy  feet  should  go  ; 
And  now  Thyself  they  strip,  and  bleeding  wounds  they  show. 

The  fourth  Book,  CJirisfs  TriiiuipJi  after  Death,  is 
of  the  Resurrection,  the  Ascension,  the  BHss  of  Heaven, 
and  the  Beatific  Vision  of  God. 

The  following  is  by  Thomas  Pestel,  a  chaplain  to 
Charles  I.  I  borrow  it  from  Professor  Palgrave's 
Treasury  of  Sacred  Song : — 

A  Psalm  for  Sunday  Night. 

O  sing  the  glories  of  our  Lord  ; 

His  grace  and  truth  resound, 
And  His  stupendous  acts  record. 

Whose  mercies  have  no  bound. 

He  made  the  all-informing  light 

And  hosts  of  angels  fair  ; 
'Tis  he  with  shadows  clothes  the  night, 

He  clouds  and  clears  the  air. 

Those  restless  skies  with  stars  enchased, 

He  on  firm  hinges  set ; 
The  wave-embraced  sea  He  placed 

His  hanging  cabinet. 

We  in  His  summer  sunshine  stand. 

And  by  His  favour  grow  ; 
We  gather  what  His  bounteous  hand 

Is  pleased  to  bestow. 


2o6  Religious  Thought  in 

When  He  contracts  His  hand,  we  mourn, 

And  all  our  strength  is  vain  ; 
To  former  dust  in  death  we  turn. 

Till  He  inspire  again. ^ 

It  would  perhaps  scarcely  have  been  expected  that 
no  devotional  poetry  of  the  seventeenth  century  should 
be  more  touching  in  depth  of  religious  feeling  than  that 
which  comes  from  the  pen  of  the  distinguished  dramatist 
Ben  Jonson  (1574- 1637).  His  powers  were  indeed  great 
enough  for  any  form  of  composition,  and  he  fitly  suc- 
ceeded Shakespeare  as  second  only  to  him.  But  his 
strong  and  passionate  temper  was  under  insufficient 
restraint.  His  faults  were  all  of  the  intemperate  kind. 
They  were  blended  nevertheless  with  much  that  was 
admirable,  with  a  keen  perception  of  what  is  good  and 
beautiful,  with  an  eager  desire  to  contribute  towards  a 
reformation  of  manners,  with  tenderness  and  generosity. 
There  is  no  wonder  that  there  should  be  vigour  and 
impetuosity  of  religious  feeling  in  the  verses  which 
express  contrition  for  misdoing  in  the  past,  and  a  true 
desire  to  live  nearer  to  God  in  time  to  come.  The 
following  is  part  of  his  Hymn  to  God  the  Father  : — 

Hear  me,  O  God  ! 

A  broken  heart 

Is  my  best  part  ; 
Use  still  Thy  rod. 

That  I  may  prove 

Therein  Thy  love. 

If  Thou  hadst  not 

Been  stern  to  me, 

But  left  me  free. 
I  had  forgot 

Myself  and  Thee. 

For  sin  's  so  sweet. 

As  [that]  minds  ill  bent 

Rarely  repent, 
Until  they  meet 

Their  punishment. 


From  F.  T.  Palgrave's  Treasury  of  Sacred  Song^  No.  89. 


Old  English  Verse  207 

But  I  '11  come  in 

Before  my  loss 

Me  further  toss, 
As  sure  to  win 

Under  His  cross. 

Such  also  is  his  prayerful  cry  to  the  blessed  Trinity 
'the  gladdest  light  dark  man  can  think  upon  '  to  receive 
his  sacrifice  of  a  troubled  spirit.     It  begins  : — 

0  holy,  blessed,  glorious  Trinity 
Of  persons,  still  one  God  in  unity, 
The  faithful  man's  believed  mystery, 

Help,  help  to  lift 
Myself  up  to  Thee,  harrowed,  torn,  and  bruis'd 
By  sin  and  Satan,  and  my  flesh  misus'd  ; 
As  my  heart  lies  in  pieces,  all  confus'd, 

O  take  my  gift ! 

There  is  also  something  very  genuine  in  his  answer  to 
those  who  interpreted  as  *  melancholy '  the  deep  emotion 
of  his  soul. 

Good  and  great  God  !  can  I  not  think  of  Thee 

But  it  must  straight  my  melancholy  be  ?  , 

Is  it  interpreted  in  me  disease, 

That,  laden  with  my  sins,  I  seek  for  ease  ? 

O  be  Thou  witness,  that  the  reins  dost  know 

And  hearts  of  all,  if  I  be  sad  for  show ; 

And  judge  me  after,  if  I  dare  pretend 

To  ought  but  grace,  or  aim  at  other  end. 

As  Thou  art  all,  so  be  Thou  all  to  me. 

First,  midst,  and  last,  converted  One  and  Three  I 

My  faith,  my  hope,  my  love  ;  and  in  this  state, 

My  Judge,  my  Witness,  and  my  Advocate. 

Where  have  I  been  this  while  exiled  from  Thee  ? 

And  whither  rapt  ?     Now  Thou  but  stoopst  to  me. 

Dwell,  dwell  here  still  !  O,  being  everywhere, 

How  can  I  doubt  to  find  Thee  ever  here  ? ' 

The    following   verses   are    from    An    Hymn    on    the 
Nativity  of  my  Saviour : — 

1  sing  the  birth  was  born  to-night, 
The  Author  both  of  life  and  light ; 

^  B.  /onsen's  Poems,  Anderson's  British  Poets,  vol.  iv. 


2o8  Religious  Thought  in 

The  angel  so  did  sound  it  : 
And  like  the  ravish'd  shepherds  said, 
Who  saw  the  light  and  were  afraid, 

Yet  search'd,  and  true  they  found  it. 

The  Son  of  God,  th'  Eternal  King, 
That  did  us  all  salvation  bring 

And  freed  the  soul  from  danger  ; 
He  whom  the  whole  world  could  not  take, 
The  Word,  which  heaven  and  earth  did  make. 

Was  now  laid  in  a  manger. 

What  comfort  by  Him  do  we  win 
Who  made  Himself  the  price  of  sin 

To  make  us  heirs  of  glory  ? 
To  see  this  Babe,  all  innocence, 
A  martyr  l)orn  in  our  defence  : 

Can  man  forget  the  story  ? 

Lastly,  I  must  quote  the  metaphor  by  which  he 
illustrates  life  having  its  value  not  in  length  but  in 
beauty.  It  occurs  in  the  middle  of  an  ode  to  two  noble 
friends  cut  off  in  the  prime  of  youth  : — 

It  is  not  growing  like  a  tree 
In  bulk  does  make  men  better  be  ; 
Or  standing  long,  an  oak,  three  hundred  year, 
To  fall  a  log  at  last,  dry,  bald,  and  sere  : 
A  lily  of  a  day 
Is  fairer  far  in  May, 
Although  it  fall  and  die  that  night ; 
It  was  the  plant  and  flower  of  light. 
In  small  proportions  we  just  beauties  see, 
And  in  short  measures  life  may  perfect  be. 

Patrick  Hannay,  member  of  an  old  landed  Scotch 
family,  appears  to  have  been  born  about  1590.  He 
took  a  Master  of  Arts  degree,  followed  King  James  to 
England  on  his  accession  to  the  English  Crown,  served 
as  a  soldier  under  the  King  of  Bohemia,  wrote  a  court 
elegy  on  the  death  of  Queen  Anne  of  Denmark  in  1619, 
and  in  1622  published  his  collected  poems,  the  longest 
of  which  is  Philomela.  Between  1639  ^"<^  1646,  he  was 
returned  to  the  Scotch  Parliament  as  Commissioner 
for  the  burgh  of  Wigtown.  The  following  is  from  his 
sonnets  and  songs  : — 


Old  English  Ve7^se  209 

0  how  my  sin-clogg'd  soul  would  soar  aloft, 
And  scale  the  crystal  sky  to  seek  remede  ! 
But  that  foul  sin  (wherewith  I  stain  it  oft) 
Makes  it  to  sink  through  doubt  of  my  misdeed  : 
In  scroll  of  guilty  conscience  I  read 

The  rueful  legend  of  my  passed  life  ; 

The  thought  whereof  maketh  my  heart  to  bleed, 

Finding  my  foul  offences  are  so  rife. 

Fear  makes  me  faint  to  find  such  and  so  many 
As  there  are  ranked  in  that  ragged  scroll  ; 
Despair  doth  say  there  was  ne'er  such  in  any  ; 
Weeping  cannot  them  wash,  nor  heart  condole. 

What  erst  as  trifles  seemed  to  my  sight 
Now  are  death-worthy  :  my  late-liking  sin 
Is  now  displeasing  and  would  bar  me  quite 
All  hope  of  help,  since  such  I  wallowed  in. 

Hope  to  my  heart  my  Saviour  doth  present 
With  all  His  Passion  proved  for  sinners'  sake  ; 
Yet  none  but  he  that  doth  from  heart  repent 
Can  use  of  that  great  Satisfaction  make  : 

1  hold  of  Him  by  a  firm  faith  must  take, 
And  all  His  suffering  to  myself  apply  : 
If  penitence  want  not,  nor  faith  be  weak, 
Of  heaven  I  know  He  cannot  me  deny. 

And  thou,  frail  flesh,  shame  not  now  to  begin 

Thee  to  submit  to  the  reforming  Spirit  : 

Think  of  the  byways  thou  hast  wandered  in, 

Which  lead  to  death  and  hell-deserved  merit. 

Why  art  thou  proud  ?     Thou  canst  not  heaven  inherit  \ 

Lie  down  in  dust,  do  no  works  of  thine  own, 

But  what  the  soul  commands,  O  willing  hear  it  ; 

By  thy  obedience  let  its  rule  be  known. 

But,  Lord,  without  Thy  sweet  assisting  grace 
I  can  do  nought,  all  my  attempts  are  vain. 
I  cannot  come  without  Thou  call,  alas  ! 
Grant  me  this  grace,  and  bring  me  home  again  ; 
Let  Thy  blest  Spirit,  Faith,  Hope,  and  Love  remain 
Still  in  my  soul  :  the  flesh,  the  world  and  devil 
Deprive  of  power  ;  let  them  no  more  reign  ; 
Or,  if  they  tempt,  deliver  me  from  evil.^ 

^  Poetical  Works  of  Patrick  Hannay.     From  ed.  of  1622  for  Hunterian 
Club,  1875,  P-  247. 

O 


2  I  o  Religious  Thought  in 

Michael  Drayton  (i  563-1631),  the  proHfic  author  of 
the  Polyolbion — a  sort  of  topographical  poem  in  thirty 
books — as  well  as  of  much  historical  verse,  published 
also  (1630)  some  '  Divine  Poems '  on  the  deeds  of  Noah, 
Moses,  and  David.  They  are  not  for  the  most  part 
very  interesting  ;  but  the  story  of  David's  encounter  with 
Goliath  is  told  with  a  good  deal  of  vivid  force.  I  quote 
some  lines  from  it : — 

And  now  before  young  David  could  come  in, 
The  host  of  Israel  somewhat  did  begin 
To  raise  itself ;  some  climb  the  nearest  tree, 
And  some  the  tops  of  tents,  whence  they  might  see 
How  this  unarmed  youth  himself  would  bear 
Against  the  all-armed  giant  (which  they  fear)  : 
Some  get  up  to  the  fronts  of  easy  hills  ; 
That  by  their  motion  a  vast  murmur  fills 
The  neighbouring  valleys,  that  the  enemy  thought 
Something  would  by  the  Israelites  be  wrought 
They  had  not  heard  of,  and  they  longed  to  see 
What  strange  and  warlike  stratagem  't  should  be. 
When  soon  they  saw  a  goodly  youth  descend. 
Himself  alone,  none  after  to  attend, 
■         That  at  his  need  with  arms  might  him  supply, — 
As  merely  careless  of  his  enemy  : 
His  head  uncovered,  and  his  locks  of  hair, 
As  he  came  on,  being  played  with  by  the  air. 
Tossed  to  and  fro,  did  with  such  pleasure  move, 
As  they  had  been  provocatives  of  love  : 
His  sleeves  stript  up  above  his  elbows  were  ; 
And  in  his  hand  a  stiff  short  staff  did  bear 
Which  by  the  leather  to  it,  and  the  string, 
They  easily  might  discern  to  be  a  sling. 
Suiting  to  these  he  wore  a  shepherd's  scrip. 
Which  from  his  side  hung  down  upon  his  hip. 


And  though  he  seemed  thus  to  be  very  young, 
Yet  was  he  well  proportioned  and  strong, 
And  with  a  comely  and  undaunted  grace, 
Holding  a  steady  and  most  even  pace. 
This  way  or  that  way  never  stood  to  gaze. 
But  like  a  man  that  death  could  not  amaze, 
Came  close  up  to  Goliah,  and  so  near 
As  he  might  easily  reach  him  with  his  spear. 


Old  English  Verse  2 1 1 

In  meantime  David,  looking  in  his  face, 

Between  his  temples,  saw  how  large  a  space 

He  was  to  hit — steps  back  a  yard  or  two — 

The  giant  wondering  what  the  youth  would  do  ;— 

Whose  nimble  hand  out  of  his  scrip  doth  bring 

A  pebble  stone  and  puts  it  in  his  sling  : 

At  which  the  giant  openly  doth  jeer, 

And,  as  in  scorn,  stands  leaning  on  his  spear, 

Which  gives  young  David  much  content  to  see  ; 

And  to  himself  thus  secretly  saith  he — 

Stand  but  one  minute  still,  stand  but  so  fast, 

And  have  at  all  Philistia  at  a  cast ; 

When  with  such  sleight  the  shot  away  he  sent, 

That  from  his  sling  as  't  had  been  lightning  went, 

And  him  so  full  upon  the  forehead  smit, 

W^hich  gave  a  crack,  when  his  thick  scalp  it  hit, 

As't  had  been  thrown  against  some  rock  or  post, 

That  the  shrill  clap  was  heard  through  either  host. 

Staggering  a  while  upon  his  spear  he  leant, 

Till  on  a  sudden  he  began  to  faint ; 

When  down  he  came  like  an  old  o'ergrown  oak. 

His  huge  root  hewn  up  by  the  labourer's  stroke. 

That  with  his  very  weight  he  shook  the  ground  ; 

His  brazen  armour  gives  a  jarring  sound 

Like  a  cracked  bell,  or  vessel  chanced  to  fall 

From  some  high  place,  which  did  like  death  appal 

The  proud  Philistines,  hopeless  that  remain 

To  see  their  champion,  great  Goliah,  slain. 

When  such  a  shout  the  host  of  Israel  gave 

As  cleft  the  clouds,  and  like  to  men  that  rave, 

O'ercome  with  comfort,  cry,  '  The  boy,  the  boy, 

O  the  brave  David,  Israel's  only  joy, 

God's  chosen  champion  !  O  most  wondrous  thing  ! 

The  great  Gohah  slain  with  a  poor  sling  ! '  ^ 

It  may  be  remarked  that  in  telling  of  the  destruction 
of  Pharaoh's  host,  Drayton  refers  to  the  Spanish  Armada, 
which  he  appears  to  have  seen  from  Dover,  sweeping 
over  the  sea  '  like  a  mighty  wood.' 

His  Harmonie  of  the  Church  consists  of  translations 
and  paraphrases. 

John  Donne  (i  573-1631)  was  born  of  Roman  Catholic 
parents.  While  he  was  reading  law  at  Lincoln's  Inn 
his  father  died  and   left  him  a  moderate  competence. 


Drayton's  David  and  Goliah^  Anderson's  British  Poets,  iii.  609. 


2 1 2  Religious  Thought  in 

He  then  gave  up  the  law,  devoted  himself  for  some 
time  to  the  questions  between  Roman  Catholics  and 
Protestants,  and  ultimately  adopted  the  reformed  faith. 
After  spending  some  years  in  Spain  and  Italy,  he 
became  secretary  to  the  Lord  Keeper  Egerton.  In 
1612  King  James  persuaded  him  to  take  orders,  and 
made  him  one  of  his  Chaplains  in  ordinary.  He  was 
afterwards  Preacher  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  Dean  of  St.  Paul's, 
Vicar  of  St.  Dunstan  in  the  West,  and  Prolocutor  of 
Convocation.  His  secular  poems,  some  of  which  might 
better  not  have  been  published,  were  most  of  them 
written  in  his  earlier  years.  His  Frogress  of  the  Soul 
was  published  in  1601  ;  his  Divine  PoeinSy  Holy  Sonnets^ 
etc.,  at  various  later  dates.  His  sacred,  as  well  as  his 
secular  poems,  are  often  injured  by  affectations  in 
language  and  carelessness  of  style  ;  and  he  was 
thought  in  his  own  tim.e  rather  obscure  and  meta- 
physical. But  there  is  feeling,  devotion,  and  earnest- 
ness in  his  verses.  He  enjoyed  the  hearty  friendship 
of  George  Herbert  and  other  good  men.  In  prose  he 
wrote  many  essays,  sermons,  meditations,  etc. 
From  his  sonnets  : — 

Death  !  be  not  proud,  though  some  have  called  thee 

Mighty  and  dreadful,  for  thou  art  not  so  ; 

For  those  thou  thinkest  thou  dost  overthrow 

Die  not,  poor  Death  !  nor  yet  canst  thou  kill  me. 

From  rest  and  sleep,  which  but  thy  picture  be, 

Much  pleasure,  then  from  thee  much  more  must  flow  ; 

And  soonest  our  best  men  with  thee  do  go, 

Rest  of  their  bones,  and  soul's  delivery. 

Thou'rt  slave  to  fate,  chance,  kings,  and  desperate  men, 

And  dost  with  poison,  war,  and  sickness  dwell  ; 

And  poppy  or  charms  can  make  us  sleep  as  well 

And  better  than  thy  stroke.     Why  swell'st  thou  then  ? 

One  short  sleep  past  we  wake  eternally. 

And  death  shall  be  no  more  :  Death,  thou  shalt  die  I 

From  The  Cross  : — 

From  me  no  pulpit,  nor  misgrounded  law. 
Nor  scandal  taken,  shall  this  cross  withdraw  ; 
It  shall  not,  for  it  cannot  ;  for  the  loss 
Of  this  cross  were  to  me  another  cross. 


Old  English  Verse 

Better  were  worse,  for  no  affliction, 

No  cross  is  so  extreme  as  to  have  none. 

Who  can  blot  out  the  cross,  which  th'  instrument 

Of  God  dew'd  on  me  in  the  Sacrament  ? 

From  The  Litany  : — 

Let  not  my  mind  be  blinder  by  more  light  ; 
Nor  faith,  by  reason  added,  lose  her  sight. 

From  Good  Friday  : — 

O  think  me  worth  thine  anger  ;  punish  me  ; 
Burn  ofif  my  rust  and  my  deformity. 

From  the  paraphrase  of  Psalm  cxxxviii.  : — 

By  Euphrates'  flowery  side 

We  did  bide, 
From  dear  Juda  far  absented, 
Tearing  the  air  with  our  cries  ; 

And  our  eyes 
With  their  streams  his  stream  augmented. 

When  poor  Sion's  doleful  state 

Desolate  ; 
Sacked,  burned,  and  enthralled, 
And  the  temple  sooiled,  which  we 

Ne'er  should  see. 
To  our  mirthless  mind  w^e  called, 

Our  mute  harps,  untuned,  unstrung, 

Up  we  hung 
On  green  willows  near  beside  us, 
Where,  we  sitting  all  forlorn, 

Thus,  in  scorn, 
Our  proud  spoilers  'gan  deride  us. 

Come,  sad  captives,  leave  your  moans, 

And  your  groans 
Under  Sion's  ruins  bury  ; 
Tune  your  harps,  and  sing  us  lays 

In  the  praise 
Of  your  God,  and  let 's  be  merry. 

Can,  ah  !  can  we  leave  our  moans, 

And  our  groans 
Under  Sion's  ruins  bury? 
Can  we  in  this  land  sing  lays 

In  the  praise 
Of  our  God,  and  here  be  merry  ? 


2  1 4  Religious  Thought  in 

No,  dear  Sion,  if  I  yet 

Do  forget 
Thine  affliction  miserable, 
Let  my  nimble  joints  become 

Stiff  and  numb. 
To  touch  warbling  harp  unable. 

Let  my  tongue  lose  singing  still  ; 

Let  it  still 
To  my  parched  roof  be  glued, 
If  in  either  harp  or  voice 

I  rejoice, 
Till  thy  joys  shall  be  renewed.'  ^ 

Among  the  worthies  of  the  English  Church  none 
hold  a  higher  place  than  George  Herbert.  He  was 
born  in  1593,  a  son  of  Sir  Edward  Herbert,  and  kins- 
man of  the  Earl  of  rcmbroke.  In  1619  he  was  orator 
to  the  University  of  Cambridge,  in  friendly  intimacy 
with  Sir  Henry  Wotton  and  Dr.  Donne.  About  this 
time  he  was  frequently  at  Court,  was  high  in  the  king's 
favour,  and  was  expected  by  his  friends  to  become  soon 
a  Secretary  of  State.  But  his  mind  became  set  on 
other  work  than  this.  '  I  will  always,'  said  he,  *  con- 
temn any  title  or  dignity  that  can  be  conferred  upon 
me,  when  I  shall  compare  them  with  the  title  of  being 
a  priest,  and  serving  at  the  altar  of  Jesus,  my  master. 
I  can  never  do  too  much  for  Him  that  hath  done  so 
much  for  me  as  to  make  me  a  Christian.'  In  1630 
King  Charles  gave  him  the  living  of  Bemerton,  where 
he  lived  profoundly  reverenced  by  all  his  parishioners 
and  neighbours  for  the  few  years  that  intervened  before 
his  early  death  in  1633.  He  must  have  been  one  of  the 
few  of  whom  it  could  be  truly  said  that  God  was  in  all 
his  thoughts,  and  the  pure  tone  of  his  piety  was  yet 
further  beautified  by  a  most  refined  and  poetic  mind. 
Like  Bishop  Ken,  he  delighted  in  music  and  sacred 
song.  On  the  Sunday  before  his  death,  we  are  told, 
that  he  rose  suddenly  from  his  bed  or  couch,  called  for 
one  of  his  instruments,  took  it  into  his  hand,  and  said: — 

^   Dr.  John  Donne's  Poems,  Anderson's  British  Poets,  iv. 


Old  English  Verse  2 1 5 

My  God,  my  God, 

My  music  shall  find  Thee, 

And  every  string 
Should  have  His  attribute  to  sing. 

Then,  having  tuned  it,  he  played,  and  sang  those  familiar 
lines  of  his  : — 

The  Sundays  of  man's  life 

Threaded  together  on  time's  string 

Make  bracelets  to  adorn  the  wife 

Of  the  eternal,  glorious  King. 

On  Sunday  heaven's  door  stands  ope  ; 

Blessings  are  plentiful  and  rife, — 

More  plentiful  than  hope. 

From  a  boy  he  had  dedicated  his  poetical  powers  to 

the   service  of  his  Maker.     Thus   in   some   early  New 

Year's  verses  to  his  mother  he  had  written  : — 

Doth  poetry 

Wear  men's  livery,  only  serve  her  turn  ? 

Sure,  Lord,  there  is  enough  in  Thee  to  dry 

Oceans  of  ink  ;  for  as  the  deluge  did 
Cover  the  earth,  so  doth  Thy  majesty. 

He  thought  also  that  verse  might  touch  the  hearts  of 
some  who  would  not  be  reached  in  any  other  way : — 

Hearken  unto  a  verser,  who  may  chance 

Rhyme  thee  to  good,  and  make  a  bait  of  pleasure  : 

A  verse  may  find  him  who  a  sermon  flies. 

And  turn  delight  into  a  sacrifice. 

He  has  made  his  poetry  the  more  full  of  teaching, 
because  it  abounds  in  pithy  apophthegms.  He  delighted 
in  proverbs,  knew  their  value  as  a  means  of  popular  in- 
struction, and  loved  to  condense  his  thoughts  into  short 
and  often  quaint  sayings,  which  might  dwell  in  the 
memory  as  proverbs  do. 

The  following  are  a  few  passages  from  his  poems  :— 
Let  thy  heart  be  true  to  God, 
Thy  mouth  to  it,  thy  action  to  them  both. 
Slight  those  who  say  amid  their  sickly  healths, 

'Thou  liv'st  by  rule  !'  What  doth  not  so  but  man  ? 
Houses  are  built  by  rules,  and  commonwealths. 

Entice  the  trusty  sun,  if  that  thou  can 
From  his  ecliptic  line  !  beckon  the  sky  ! 
Who  lives  by  rule  then  keeps  good  company.  {Church  Porch.) 


2  1 6  Religious  Thought  in 

Be  thrifty,  but  not  covetous  :  therefore  give 
Thy  need,  thy  honour,  and  thy  friend  his  due. 

{Church  Porch) 
Pitch  thy  behaviour  low,  thy  projects  high  : 

So  shalt  thou  humble  and  magnanimous  be. 
Sink  not  in  spirit  :  who  aimeth  at  the  sky, 

Shoots  higher  much  than  he  who  aims  a  tree. 
A  grain  of  glory  mixed  with  humbleness 
Cures  both  a  fever  and  lethargicness. 

{Id.) 
Kneeling  ne'er  spoilt  silk  stocking  ;  quit  thy  state. 
All  equals  are  within  the  Church's  gate. 

{Id.) 
The  worst  speak  somethmg  good  ;  if  all  want  sense, 
God  takes  a  text,  and  preacheth  patience. 
He  that  gets  patience,  and  the  blessing  which 

Preachers  conclude  with,  hath  not  lost  his  pains  : 
He  that  by  being  at  Church  escapes  the  ditch, 

Which  he  might  fall  in  by  companions,  gains  : 
He  that  loves  God's  abode,  and  to  combine 
With  saints  on  earth,  shall  one  day  with  them  shine. 

{Id.) 
If  thou  do  ill,  the  joy  fades,  not  the  pains  ; 
If  well,  the  pain  doth  fade,  the  joy  remains. 

{Id.) 
Philosophers  have  measured  mountains. 

Fathomed  the  depths  of  seas,  of  states,  and  kings, 
Walked  with  a  staff  to  heaven,  and  traced  fountains. 

But  there  are  two  vast  spacious  things. 
The  which  to  measure  it  doth  more  behove  ; 
Yet  few  there  are  that  sound  them — Sin  and  Love. 

( The  Agony) 
If  bliss  had  lain  in  art  and  strength. 
None  but  the  wise  and  strong  had  gained  it  ; 
Where  now  by  faith  all  arms  are  of  a  length. 
One  size  doth  all  condition  fill. 
A  peasant  may  believe  as  much 
As  a  great  clerk,  and  reach  the  highest  stature. 
Thus  dost  thou  make  proud  knowledge  bend  and  crouch, 
While  grace  fills  up  uneven  nature. 

{Faith) 
Who  goeth  on  the  way  which  Christ  hath  gone 
Is  much  more  sure  to  meet  with  Him  than  one 

That  travelleth  by-ways. 
Perhaps  my  God,  though  He  be  far  before, 
May  take  me  by  the  hand,  and,  more. 
May  strengthen  my  decays. 

{Lent) 


Old  English  Verse  2 1 7 

He  that  loveth  gold,  though  dross, 
Tells  to  all  he  meets  his  loss  : 
He  that  sins,  hath  he  no  loss  ? 

He  that  finds  a  silver  vein. 
Thinks  on  it  and  thinks  again  : 
Brings  thy  Saviour's  death  no  gain  ? 

{Bareness) 
All  may  of  Thee  partake  ; 
Nothing  can  be  so  mean 
Which  with  this  tincture,  'for  Thy  sake,' 
Will  not  grow  bright  and  clean. 

A  servant  with  this  clause 
Makes  drudgery  divine  ; 

Who  sweeps  a  room,  as  for  Thy  laws, 
Makes  that,  and  the  action,  fine. 

{The  Elixir) 

Who  is  the  honest  man.? 
He  that  doth  still  and  strongly  good  pursue, 
To  God,  his  neighbour,  and  himself,  most  true  ; 

Whom  neither  force  nor  fawning  can 
Inspire  or  wrench  from  giving  all  their  due. 

Whose  honesty  is  not 
So  loose  and  easy,  that  a  ruffling  wind 
Can  blow  away,  or  glittering  look  it  blind  : 

Who  rides  his  sure  and  even  trot, 
While  the  world  now  rides  by,  now  lags  behind  : 

Who,  when  great  trials  come, 
Nor  seeks  nor  shows  them  ;  but  doth  calmly  stay, 
Till  he  the  thing  and  the  example  weigh  : 

All  being  brought  into  a  sum. 
What  place  or  person  calls  for,  he  doth  pay. 

Whom  none  can  work,  or  woo. 
To  use  in  anything  a  trick  or  sleight ; 
For  above  all  things  he  abhors  deceit  ; 

His  words  and  works,  and  fashion  too, 
All  of  a  piece,  and  all  are  clear  and  straight. 

Who  never  melts  or  thaws 
At  close  temptations  :  when  the  day  is  done, 
His  goodness  sets  not,  but  in  dark  can  run  : 

The  sun  to  others  writeth  laws. 
And  is  their  virtue  : — Virtue  is  his  sun. 

Who,  when  he  is  to  treat 
With  sick  folks,  women,  those  whom  passions  sway, 
Allows  for  that,  and  keeps  his  constant  way  : 

Whom  others'  faults  do  not  defeat, 
But  though  men  fail  him,  yet  his  part  doth  play. 


2i8  Religious  Thought  in 

Whom  nothing  can  procure, 
When  the  wide  world  runs  bias  from  his  will, 
To  writhe  his  limbs,  and  share,  not  mend,  the  ill — 

This  is  the  marksman,  safe  and  sure, 
Who  still  is  right,  and  prays  to  be  so  still. 

{Constancy) 

The  following  are  some  pathetic  verses,  expressing 
that  longing  for  a  clearer  vision,  that  craving  after 
some  present  revelation  of  God  to  sight  and  sense,  that 
spirit  of,  so  to  say,  wondering  remonstrance  at  the 
Creator  being  hidden  from  His  creature,  which  presses 
more  upon  some  minds  than  any  other  of  the  mysteries 
which  encompass  human  life.  It  is  entitled  The 
Search. 

Whither,  O  whither,  art  Thou  fled, 

My  Lord,  my  Love? 
My  searches  are  my  daily  bread  ; 

Yet  never  prove. 

My  knees  pierce  th'  earth,  mine  eye  the  sky  ; 

And  yet  the  sphere 
And  centre  both  to  me  deny 

That  Thou  art  there. 

Yet  can  I  mark  how  herbs  below. 

Grow  green  and  gay  ; 
As  if  to  meet  Thee  they  did  know, 

While  I  decay. 

Yet  can  I  mark  how  stars  above 

Simper  and  shine. 
As  having  keys  into  Thy  love 

While  poor  I  pine. 

I  sent  a  sigh  to  seek  Thee  out, 

Deep  drawn  in  pain. 
Winged  like  an  arrow,  but  my  scout 

Returns  in  vain. 

I  turned  another — having  store  — 

Into  a  groan, 
Because  the  search  was  dumb  before  ; 

But  all  was  one. 

Where  is  my  God  ?  What  hidden  place 

Conceals  thee  still? 
What  covert  dare  eclipse  thy  face? 

Is  it  Thy  Will? 


Old  English  Verse  2  1 9 

Finally  I  must  mention,  without  any  need  of  quoting, 
the  delightful  hymn  in  two  stanzas,  beginning  '  Let  all 
the  world  in  every  corner  sing.' 

Herbert's  poems  are  indeed  a  treasury  of  religious 
thought.  Yet  they  have  their  faults.  There  is  much 
that  is  obscure,  much  that  is  over-figurative  and  far- 
fetched. The  obscurity  in  particular  is  sometimes  very 
disappointing.  Not  very  unfrequently  there  is  a  music, 
and  an  appearance  of  fine  fancy  in  verses  which,  when 
read,  leave  no  clear  impression  of  their  meaning.  But 
where  there  is  so  much  sober  sense,  joined  with  the 
most  delicate  and  refined  feeling,  such  profound  piety, 
such  love  of  the  Church,  such  music,  such  play  of 
imagination,  when  once  we  begin  to  select  passages,  it 
is  hard  to  know  where  to  stop. 

The  Divine  and  Moral  Spectdations  of  Robert  Ay  let 
were  published  in  1625.  The  following  is  of 
Death  :— 

Come,  let 's  shake  hands  ;  we  in  the  end  must  meet  : 
I  have  provided  me  this  goodly  chain 
Of  graces,  at  thy  coming  thee  to  greet ; 
For  thou  will  not  for  favour,  gold,  or  gain 
Thy  fatal  stroke  one  moment  here  reifrain. 
Well, — close  mine  eyes,  and  dim  my  body's  light  : 
These  shining  gems  for  ever  shall  remain 
My  soul  for  to  enlighten  ;  oh,  then  smite  ! 
It  skills  not  when,  not  how,  so  as  my  heart  stands  right. 


Then  witness.  Death,  that  willing  I  lay  down 
My  body — sure  to  put  it  on  again, 
My  fleshly  baggage — for  a  heavenly  crown. 
My  earthly  bondage — in  the  heavens  to  reign. 
I  leave  this  tent  of  brittle  clay,  to  gain 
In  heaven  a  mansion,  holy,  spiritual. 
Lo,  my  corruption  here  I  down  have  lain 
For  incorruption,  pure,  ange  ical. 
And  for  a  heavenly  parlour,  changed  my  earthly  hall. 

Lord,  this  I  crave  ;  direct  me  in  the  way, 
So  shall  I  certainly  attain  my  end  : 
If  well  my  part  on  mortal  stage  I  play, 
Saints,  angels,  my  beholders,  shall  commend 


2  20  Religious  Thoztght  in 

My  action  :  God  and  Christ  shall  be  my  friend  ; 
And  when  my  flesh  to  nature's  tyring  room, 
From  whence  it  came,  shall  quietly  descend, 
It  there  shall  rest  until  the  day  of  doom, 
And  then  in  heav'nly  quire  a  singing-man  become. 

Sweet  Death,  then  friendly  let  me  thee  embrace  ; 
He  truly  lives  that,  living,  learns  to  die  : 
Now  smiling,  like  a  friend,  I  see  thy  face, 
Not  terrible,  like  to  an  enemy. 
But  1  with  prayer  end  my  melody  : 
Lord,  grant  when  death  my  passing-bell  doth  ring, 
My  soul  may  hear  the  heavenly  harmony 
Of  saints  and  angels,  which  most  joyful  sing 
Sweet  Hallelujahs  to  their  Saviour,  God,  and  King.^ 

Dr.  Thomas  Campion  {c.  1567- 1620) — not  to  be  con- 
founded with  Edmund  Campion  the  Jesuit  who  was 
executed  in  1581 — pubhshed  his  Divine  and  Moral 
Songs  in  161 2.  He  was  a  physician,  but  also  a 
member  of  Gra3^'s  Inn,  and  was  a  writer  both  of  Latin 
and  Enghsh  secular  poetry,  and  of  several  masques. 
The  following  is  from  one  of  his  poems  : — 
Awake,  awake,  thou  heavy  sprite. 

That  sleep'st  the  deadly  sleep  of  sin 
Rise  now  and  walk  the  ways  of  light ! 

'Tis  not  too  late  yet  to  begin. 
Seek  heaven  early,  seek  it  late  ; 
True  Faith  still  finds  an  open  gate. 
Get  up,  get  up,  thou  leaden  man  ! 

Thy  track  to  endless  joy  or  pain 
Yields  but  the  model  of  a  span  ; 

Yet  burns  out  thy  life's  lamp  in  vain  ! 
One  minute  bounds  thy  bane  or  bliss  : 
Then  watch  and  labour  while  time  is.- 

From  John  Amner's  Hymns  (161 5) : — 

A  stranger  here,  as  all  my  fathers  were 

That  went  before,  I  wander  to  and  fro  ; 
From  earth  to  heaven  is  my  pilgrimage, 

A  tedious  way  for  flesh  and  blood  to  go  : 
O  Thou  that  art  the  Way,  pity  the  blind. 
And  teach  me  how  I  may  Thy  dwelling  find.' 

^  Robert  Aylet's  Divine  and  Moral  Meditations^  etc.,  1655-54. 
2   Works  by  Dr.   Thomas  Campion,  ed.  by  A.  H.  Bullen,  p.  59. 
^  More  Songs  from   Elizabethan  Song-books,    ed.    by  A.    H.    Bullen, 
1888,  p.  2. 


Old  English  Verse  2  2 1 

From  a  manuscript  in  Christ  Church,  of  about  the 
same  period  : — 

Turn  in,  my  Lord,  turn  in  to  me, 

My  heart 's  a  homely  place  : 
But  Thou  canst  make  corruption  flee 

And  fill  it  with  Thy  grace  ; 
So  furnished  it  will  be  brave, 
And  a  rich  dwelling  Thou  shalt  have.^ 

Dr.  WilHam  Loe,  or  Leo,  wrote  his  Songs  of  Sion 
about  1620.  He  held  at  different  times  various  ap- 
pointments: as  Vicar  of  Churcham,  in  1593,  Master  of 
the  Collegiate  School  at  Gloucester  (1600),  Prebendary 
(1602)  and  Sub-dean  (1605)  of  Gloucester,  Pastor  to 
the  '  Merchant  Adventurers '  at  Hamburg,  Preacher  at 
Putney  (1624),  and  at  Wandsworth  (1618),  and  Chaplain 
to  the  King,  soon  before  his  death  in  1645.  He  was 
buried  in  Westminster  Abbey.  In  his  prose  writings 
he  is  often  somewhat  bitter  and  violent  in  controversy 
with  Roman  Catholicism.  But  in  his  poems  there  is 
nothing  but  what  is  inspired  by  a  spirit  of  deep  and 
gentle  piety.  These  Songs  of  Sion  are  all  dedicated  to 
different  leading  members  of  his  Hamburg  congrega- 
tion. They  are  written  throughout  in  words  of  one 
syllable,  not  from  any  affectation,  but  from  a  not  un- 
reasonable dislike  to  make  use  in  sacred  verse  of  the 
too  pedantical  conceits  that  were  common  in  the 
writings  of  his  day,  and  to  draw  rather  from  wells  of 
pure  English  undefiled.  '  I  would  fain,'  he  writes, '  make 
an  essay  to  know  whether  we  might  express  our  hearts 
to  God  in  our  holy  soliloquies  in  m5asillables  in  our 
owne  mother  tongue  or  no.  It  being  a  receaved  opinion 
amogst  many  of  those  who  seeme  rather  to  be  juditious 
than  caprichious,  that  heretofore  our  English  tongue,  in 
the  true  idiome  thereof,  consisted  altogether  of  mono- 
sillables,  untill  it  came  to  be  blended  and  mingled  with 
the  commixture  of  exotique  languages.' 

1  More  Songs  fram  Elizabethan  Song-books,  ed.  by  A.  H.  Bullen, 
1888,  p.  122. 


222  Religious  Thoztght  in 

The  following  is  from  his  lines  on  the  Seven  Words 
of  Christ  upon  the  Cross  : — 

A  thief  doth  cry  and  call  ; 

Christ  hears  him  by  and  by  : 
O  soul,  thy  Christ  will  hear  thee  sure 

If  thou  dost  call  and  cry. 

O  learn,  it  is  but  one 

To  whom  Christ  grants  an  ear. 
That  sued  to  Him  in  death  at  last, 

And  sought  Him  in  his  fear. 

Yet  it  is  one,  my  soul, 

Lest  thou  shouldst  faint  and  die, 
And  that  thy  Christ  would  not  thee  hear 

In  death  when  thou  shall  cry. 

And  yet  it  is  but  one, 

Lest,  soul,  thou  shouldst  be  proud, 

And  think  that  God  would  hear  thee  still, 
When  that  thy  cry  is  loud. 

O  learn,  sweet  soul,  by  this, 

To  sue  to  God  in  life 
And  drive  not  off  till  death  do  come. 

To  die  in  jar  and  strife.^ 

Charles  Fitzgeoffrey  (i 575-1638)  was  Vicar  of  St. 
Dominic  in  Cornwall.  Mr.  Grosart  speaks  of  him  as  a 
high-hearted,  outspoken,  patriotic  man,  and  in  the 
highest  sense  evangelical.  The  following  lines  are  from 
The  Blessed  Birthday  : — 

Come,  Faith,  and  fathom  the  profundities 
Of  these  so  secret  sacred  mysteries  : 
The  line  of  Reason  is  too  short  to  sound 
>    This  sea,  which  neither  bottom  hath  nor  bound  : 

The  wisest  here  no  wiser  are  than  fools  : 
Christ  in  a  Stall  was  born,  not  in  the  Schools. 
His  birth  by  th'  Angel  was  not  first  made  known 
To  Scribes  and  Rabbins,  but  to  Shepherds  shown, 
People  who  in  simplicity  did  live  ; 
Dispute  they  could  not,  but  they  could  believe. 
Unto  His  feast,  which  was  for  all  men  fitted, 
The  Wise-men  were  the  last  that  were  admitted  : 

^  Dr.  Lot's  Poems,  in  Grosart's  Miscellany:   '  On  the  Seauen  Words.' 


Old  English  Verse  223 

Who  humbly  did  fall  down  when  they  were  come  ; 
Their  humane  wisdom  they  did  leave  at  home  ; 
And  thus  their  great  Inviter  more  contented 
Than  all  the  precious  presents  they  presented.^ 

*  Next  to  the  Scripture  poems,'  said  Richard  Baxter, 
*  there  are  none  so  savoury  to  me  as  Mr.  George 
Herbert's,  and  Mr.  George  Sandys's.'  Sandys,  born 
1577,  was  a  son  of  the  Archbishop  of  York.  He 
travelled  extensively  in  France,  Italy,  Turkey,  Egypt 
and  Palestine,  and  also  visited  Virginia  as  Treasurer  of 
the  new  colony.  Charles  I.  was  much  attached  to  him, 
and  during  his  captivity  at  Carisbrook  found  much 
pleasure  in  his  paraphrases  of  the  Psalms.  These 
were  published  in  1636,  and  were  followed  by  para- 
phrases of  the  other  parts  of  Scripture  in  1638. 

From  Psalm  cxxi. : — 

To  the  hills  thine  eyes  erect, 
Help  from  thence  alone  expect. 
He  who  heaven  and  earth  has  made 
Shall  from  Sion  send  thee  aid. 
God,  thy  ever-watchful  guide, 
Will  not  suffer  thee  to  slide  ; 
He,  even  He,  who  Israel  keeps 
Never  slumbers,  never  sleeps. 
He,  thy  Guard,  with  wings  displayed 
Shall  refresh  thee  in  their  shade. 
Suns  shall  not  with  heat  infect. 
But  their  temperate  beams  reflect ; 
Nor  unwholesome  serene  shall 
From  the  moon's  moist  influence  fall. 
When  thou  travell'st  on  the  way, 
When  at  home  thou  spend'st  the  day  ; 
When  sweet  peace  thy  life  delights, 
When  embroiled  in  bloody  fights, 
God  shall  all  thy  steps  attend, 
Now  and  evermore  defend. 

Sir  Henry  Wotton  (i  568-1639)  was  educated  at 
Winchester,  thence  passed  to  New  College,  and  then 
to  Queen's.  After  gaining  high  repute  in  Oxford  for 
wit  and  learning,  he  travelled  abroad  for  several  years, 

^  Poems  of  Charles  Fitzgeoffrey,  ed.  by  Grosart,  p.  152. 


2  24  Religious  Thought  in 

then  returned  to  England  and  became  secretary  to  the 
Earl  of  Essex.  On  the  attainder  of  that  nobleman  he 
again  retired  into  Italy,  and  was  engaged  in  the  secret 
diplomatic  service  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany.  At 
King  James's  accession,  he  came  back  to  England,  was 
knighted,  and  employed  in  many  important  embassies. 
In  1623,  the  provostship  of  Eton  College  was  given  him, 
and  he  then  took  deacon's  orders.  Besides  his  prose 
writings  on  The  State  of  Chris tendo77i,  on  The  Elements 
of  Architecture,  etc.,  he  wrote  a  few  poems.  One  of  these. 
The  Character  of  a  Happy  Life,  is  familiar  to  most 
readers,  though  I  must  quote  it  none  the  less.  It  is 
said  to  have  been  first  printed  in  1614: — 

How  happy  is  he  born  and  taught 

That  serveth  not  another's  will  ; 
Whose  armour  is  his  honest  thought, 

And  simple  truth  his  utmost  skill ! 

Whose  passions  not  his  masters  are  ; 

Whose  soul  is  still  prepared  for  death, 
Untied  unto  the  world  by  care 

Of  public  fame  or  private  breath  ; 

Who  envies  none  that  chance  doth  raise, 

Nor  vice  ;  who  never  understood 
How  deepest  wounds  are  given  by  praise, 

Nor  rules  of  state,  but  rules  of  good. 

Who  hath  his  life  from  rumours  freed  ; 

Whose  conscience  is  his  strong  retreat  ; 
Whose  state  can  neither  flatterers  feed. 

Nor  ruin  make  oppressors  great ; 

Who  God  doth  late  and  early  pray 
More  of  His  grace  than  gifts  to  lend  ; 

And  entertains  the  harmless  day 
With  a  religious  book  or  friend. 

This  man  is  freed  from  servile  band 

Of  hope  to  rise,  or  fear  to  fall  ; 
Lord  of  himself,  though  not  of  lands  ; 

And  having  nothing,  yet  hath  all.^ 

I  next  extract  the  greater  part  of  a  hymn  which  he 


^  Poems  from  Reliqiiice  IVoltomana,  etc.,  in  Hannah's  Courtly  Poets, 
90.  It  does  not  seem  clear  that  this  poem  is  strictly  original,  there  being 
a  German  poem  of  the  same  age,  very  closely  resembling  it.      Note  in  id. 


Old  English  Verse  225 

wrote  during  his  embassy  at  Venice,  when  the  plague 
was  raging  there  : — 

Thus,  then,  our  Strength,  Father  of  Hfe  and  death, 
To  whom  our  thanks,  our  vows,  ourselves  we  owe. 

From  me,  Thy  tenant  of  this  fading  breath. 

Accept  those  lines  which  from  Thy  goodness  flow, 

And  Thou,  that  wert  Thy  regal  prophet's  muse, 

Do  not  Thy  praise  in  weaker  strains  refuse  ! 

Let  these  poor  notes  ascend  unto  Thy  throne. 
Where  majesty  doth  sit  with  mercy  crowned. 

Where  my  Redeemer  lives,  in  whom  alone 
The  errors  of  my  wandering  life  are  drowned  ; 

Where  all  the  Choir  of  Heaven  resound  the  same. 

That  only  Thine,  Thine  is  the  Saving  Name  ! 

Well  then,  my  soul,  joy  in  the  midst  of  pain  ; 

Thy  Christ,  that  conquered  hell,  shall  from  above 
With  greater  triumph  yet  return  again. 

And  conquer  His  own  justice  with  His  love  ! 
Commanding  earth  and  seas  to  render  those 
Unto  His  bhss,  for  whom  He  paid  His  woes. 

Now  have  I  done  ;  now  are  my  thoughts  at  peace  ; 

And  now  my  joys  are  stronger  than  my  grief  : 
I  feel  those  comforts  that  shall  never  cease, 

Future  in  hope,  but  present  in  belief: 
Thy  words  are  true,  Thy  promises  are  just. 
And  Thou  wilt  find  Thy  dearly-bought  in  dust.^ 

Sir  William  Alexander,  Earl  of  Stirling  (1580-1640) 
wrote  a  number  of  poems  and  tragedies,  some  classical 
and  others  biblical.  I  quote  a  few  lines  from  a  long 
poem  in  twelve  books  upon  Doomesday : — 

Let  not  the  godly  man  affliction  fear  ; 

God  wrestle  may  with  some,  but  none  o'erthrows. 

Who  gives  the  burden,  gives  the  strength  to  bear  ; 

And  best  reward  the  greatest  service  [obedience]  owes  [possesses]  ; 

Those  who  would  reap,  they  at  the  first  must  eare  [plough], 

God's  love,  his  faith,  a  good  man's  trouble  shows. ^ 

William  Cartwright  (161 1-43)  was  a  man  of  some 
note   at    Oxford,  both   as   a   preacher,  and  reader  in 

^  Poems  from  Keliquice  Wottoniana:,  92. 

-  Poetical  Works  of  Sir  W.  Alexander^  Earl  of  Stirling^  in  3  vols.  1870. 

P 


2  26  Religiozis  Thought  in 

metaphysics.  When  the  Civil  War  broke  out,  he  acted 
with  zeal  and  efficiency  for  the  King,  who  went  into 
mourning  for  him  when  he  died  of  camp-fever.  His 
poems  and  plays  were  published  in  1651. 

CONSIDERATION. 

Fool  that  I  was,  that  little  of  my  span 
Which  I  have  sinned,  until  it  styles  me  man, 
I  counted  life  till  now  ;  henceforth  I  '11  say 
'Twas  but  a  drowsy  lingering  or  delay  : 
Let  it  forgotten  perish,  let  none  tell 
That  then  I  was  :  To  live  is  to  live  well. 
Off  then,  thou  old  man,  and  give  place  unto 
The  Ancient  of  Days  !  Let  Him  renew 
Mine  age  like  as  the  eagles,  and  endow 
My  breast  with  innocence,  that  he,  whom  thou 
Hast  made  a  man  of  sin  and  subtly  sworn 
A  vassal  to  thy  tyranny,  may  turn 
Infant  again,  and  having  all  of  child 
Want  wilt  hereafter  to  be  so  beguiled,^ 

Francis  Quarles  (i 592-1644),  son  of  an  official  in 
Elizabeth's  Court,  was  a  member  of  Lincoln's  Inn, 
then  Steward  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  daughter 
of  James  I.,  and  afterwards  Secretary  to  Archbishop 
Usher  in  Ireland.  When  the  Civil  War  broke  out, 
his  attachment  to  the  King,  whom  he  joined  at 
Oxford,  brought  upon  him  the  hostility  of  the 
Puritan  party.  His  property  was  plundered,  and 
various  manuscripts  which  he  had  prepared  for  the 
press  were  destroyed.  This  loss  he  took  so  much  to 
heart  that  it  was  thought  to  have  hastened  his  death. 
One  of  his  works,  The  Einblevis,  Divine  and  Morale 
together  with  Hieroglyphics  of  the  Life  of  Man,  has  been 
many  times  reprinted.  It  is  not  merely  interesting  for 
its  quaintness,  but  valuable  for  the  warm  spirit  of  de- 
votion with  which  it  is  penetrated.  Each  poem  is 
headed  by  a  curious  '  hieroglyphic,'  or  emblematic 
engraving,  with  a  text  and  a  Latin  motto,  and  is  illus- 
trated on  the  opposite  page  with  quotations  from  the. 

'   CartwriglU' s  Poe?fis,  Chalmers's  English  Poets,  vi.  528. 


Old  English  Verse  227 

early  Fathers,  and  with  a  short  epigram.  I  give  an 
example  : — The  hieroglyphic  represents  a  heavenly  globe 
at  the  top  of  a  hill.  A  man  is  painfully  riding  up  to 
it  on  an  ass — so  slowly  that  he  is  outstripped  by  a  snail, 
and  looking  back  the  while  to  the  terrestrial  world 
below,  towards  which  another  rider,  mounted  on  a  stag, 
is  spurring  at  full  speed.  The  motto  is,  '  Da  mihi  fraena, 
timor ;  da  mihi  calcar,  amor.'  The  text  is  from  John 
iii.  19:  '  Loving  darkness  rather  than  light.'  The  quota- 
tions are  all  three  from  St.  Augustine.  One  is  from 
his  Exposition  of  the  Psalms :  '  Two  several  lovers  built 
two  several  cities :  the  love  of  God  buildeth  a  Jeru- 
salem ;  the  love  of  the  world  buildeth  a  Babylon.  Let 
every  one  inquire  of  himself  what  he  loveth,  and  he 
shall  resolve  himself  of  whence  he  is  a  citizen.'  The 
other  two  are  from  The  Confessions :  *'  All  things  are 
driven  by  their  own  weight,  and  tend  to  their  own 
centre.  My  weight  is  my  love  ;  by  that  I  am  driven 
whithersoever  I  am  driven.'  '  Lord,  he  loveth  Thee  the 
less,  that  loveth  anything  with  Thee,  which  he  loveth 
not  for  Thee.'     The  epigram  is — 

Lord,  scourge  my  ass,  if  she  shall  make  no  haste, 
And  curb  my  stag,  if  he  should  fly  too  fast ; 
If  he  be  over  swift,  or  she  prove  idle, 
Let  love  lend  her  a  spur ;  fear,  him  a  bridle. 

The  poem  runs  thus  : — 

Lord,  when  we  leave  the  world,  and  come  to  Thee, 

How  dull,  how  slug  are  we  I 
How  backward  I  how  preposterous  is  the  motion 

Of  our  ungain  devotion  ! 
Our  thoughts  are  millstones,  and  our  souls  are  lead, 

And  our  desires  are  dead  : 
Our  vows  are  fairly  promised,  faintly  paid  ; 

Or  broken,  or  not  made  : 
Our  better  work  (if  any  good)  attends 

Upon  our  private  ends  ; 
In  whose  performance  one  poor  worldly  scoff 

Foils  us,  or  beats  us  off. 
If  Thy  sharp  scourge  find  out  some  secret  fault 

We  grumble  or  revolt ; 
And  if  Thy  gentle  hand  forbear,  we  stray, 

Or  idly  lose  the  way. 


2  28  Religiozts  Tkotcght  in 

Is  the  road  fair?  we  loiter.     Clogged  with  mire? 

We  stick,  or  else  retire  : 
A  lamb  appears  a  lion  ;  and  we  fear 

Each  bush  we  see 's  a  bear. 
When  our  dull  souls  direct  our  thoughts  to  Thee, 

As  slow  as  snails  are  we. 
But  at  the  earth  we  dart  our  winged  desire. 

We  burn,  we  burn  like  fire. 
Like  as  the  amorous  needle  joys  to  bend 

To  her  magnetic  friend  ; 
Or  as  the  greedy  lover's  eyeballs  fly 

At  his  fair  mistress'  eye, 
So,  so  we  cling  to  earth  ;  we  fly  and  puff. 

Yet  fly  not  fast  enough. 
If  pleasure  beckon  with  her  balmy  hand, 

Her  beck  's  a  strong  command  : 
If  honour  call  us  with  her  courtly  breath, 

An  hour's  delay  is  death  : 
If  profit's  golden-fingered  charm  inveigles, 

We  clip  more  swift  than  eagles  : 
Let  Auster  weep,  or  blustering  Boreas  roar, 

Till  eyes  or  lungs  be  sore  ; 
Let  Neptune  swell  until  his  dropsied  sides 

Burst  into  broken  tides  ; 
Not  threatening  rocks,  nor  winds,  nor  waves,  nor  fire, 

Can  curb  our  fierce  desire  : 
Not  fire  nor  rocks  can  stop  our  furious  minds, 

Nor  waves,  nor  winds  ; 
How  fast  and  fearless  do  our  footsteps  flee  ! 
The  light-foot  roebuck 's  not  so  swift  as  we.^ 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  the  poem  headed 
by  an  emblem  which  bears  the  motto, '  Phosphore  redde 
diem  : ' — 

How  long  !  how  long  shall  these  benighted  eyes 

Languish  in  shades,  like  feeble  flies 
Expecting  Spring  !     How  long  shall  darkness  soil 

The  face  of  earth,  and  thus  beguile 
Our  souls  of  sprightful  action  ;  when  will  day 

Begin  to  dawn,  whose  new-born  ray 
May  gild  the  weathercocks  of  our  devotion, 

And  give  our  unsouled  souls  new  motion  ! 
Sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  day  ! 

Thy  light  will  fray 
These  horrid  mists  ;  sweet  Phosphor,  bring  the  day  !  ^ 

*  Quarles'  Emblems,  Divine  and  Moral,  i.  13.  -  Id.  i.  14. 


Old  English  Verse  229 

The  following  Is  headed  by  the  emblem  of  a  man  in 
a  cage,  with  the  text,  '  Bring  my  soul  out  of  prison,' 
Ps.  cxlii.  7  : — 

My  soul  is  like  a  bird  ;  my  flesh  the  cage, 

Wherein  she  wears  her  weary  pilgrimage 

Of  hours  as  few  as  evil,  daily  fed 

With  sacred  wine,  and  sacramental  bread. 

The  keys  that  lock  her  in,  and  let  her  out, 

Are  birth  and  death  ;  'twixt  both  she  hops  about 

From  perch  to  perch,  from  sense  to  reason  ;  then 

From  higher  reason  down  to  sense  again  : 

From  sense  she  climbs  to  faith  ;  where  for  a  season 

She  sits  and  sings  ;  then  down  again  to  reason  : 

From  reason  back  to  faith,  and  straight  from  thence 

She  rudely  flutters  to  the  perch  of  sense  ; 

From  sense  to  hope  ;  then  hops  from  hope  to  doubt ; 

From  doubt  to  dull  despair. 

Great  Lord  of  souls,  to  whom  shall  prisoners  fly 
But  Thee  ?     Thou  hadst  Thy  cage,  as  well  as  I  ; 
And  for  my  sake  Thy  pleasure  was  to  know 
The  sorrows  that  it  brought,  and  feltst  them  too.^ 

My  last  quotation  is  from  some  verses  under  a  hiero- 
glyphic of  a  closed  lantern  ;  one  of  the  patristic  quota- 
tions is  from  St.  Bernard  :  '  If  thou  be  one  of  the  foolish 
virgins,  the  congregation  is  necessary  for  thee ;  if  thou 
be  one  of  the  wise  virgins,  thou  art  necessary  for  the 
congregation.' 

Was  man — the  highest  masterpiece  of  Nature, 

The  curious  abstract  of  the  whole  creation, 
Whose  soul  was  copied  from  his  great  Creator, 
Made  to  give  light,  and  set  for  observation. 
Ordained  for  this  ?  to  spend  his  light 
In  a  dark  lantern  cloister'd  up  in  night  ? 

Remember,  O  remember,  thou  wert  set 

For  men  to  see  the  great  Creator  by  ; 
Thy  flame  is  not  thy  own  ;  it  is  a  debt 

Thou  ow'st  thy  Maker. 

My  God,  my  light  is  dark  enough  at  lightest, 

Increase  her  flame,  and  give  her  strength  to  shine  : 

'Tis  frail  at  best :  'tis  dim  enough  at  brightest, 
But  'tis  her  glory  to  be  foiled  by  Thine.^ 

1  Quarles'  Emblems,  Divine  and  Moral,  v.  lo.  -  Id.  viii.  5. 


230  Religious  Thought  in 

Alexander  Rosse,  one  of  Charles  the  First's  chaplains, 
a  good  and  learned  man,  wrote  among  many  other 
books  one  entitled  Mel  Heliconitnn^  or  Poetical  Honey 
Gathered  out  of  the  Weeds  of  Parnassus,  published  in 
1646,  'the  fruit  of  some  sequestered  hours  from  his 
divinity  exercises.'  It  is  a  quaint  book  ;  his  plan  being 
to  take,  as  a  sort  of  text,  some  mythological  story,  and 
then  to  explain  as  a  spiritual  allegory  what  he  calls  '  the 
mysteries '  of  it.  Each  allegory  is  concluded  with  some 
appropriate  verses.  Thus  he  symbolises  from  the  story 
of  Atlas,  who  was  turned  into  a  mountain  by  Perseus, 
son  of  Jupiter,  because  he  refused  to  lodge  him  : — 

Go  to  !  my  soul,  the  doors  unlock  ! 
Behold,  the  Son  of  God  doth  knock, 

And  offers  to  come  in. 
O  suffer  not  to  go  from  hence 
So  great  a  God,  so  just  a  Prince  : 

That  were  a  grievous  sin  ! 
Refuse  not,  then,  to  entertain 
So  great  a  guest,  who  would  so  fain 

Come  lodge  and  sup  with  thee.^ 

Again,  Chiron  was  skilled  in  astronomy,  music,  and 
physic.  Even  so  the  Christian  must  be  contemplative, 
and  have  his  thoughts  in  heaven  ;  music  must  be  in  his 
heart,  good  words  in  his  mouth,  good  deeds  in  his 
actions.  Chiron  was  wounded  in  the  foot  by  Hercules, 
and  endured  it  without  murmur,.  Patient  suffering  is 
a  part  of  Christianity.  But  Chiron  entreated  Jupiter, 
who  placed  him  among  the  stars,  with  a  sacrifice  in  his 
hand,  and  an  altar  before  him.  Even  so  affliction  mor- 
tifies the  flesh,  and  makes  the  Christian  meet  for 
heaven. 

To  gaze  upon  night's  sparkling  eyes, 
Which  still  are  rolling  in  the  skies, 

Is  Chiron's  head  ;  but  we 
Must  have  his  curing  hands  also. 
And  feet  which  may  endure  God's  blow 

And  voice  of  melody. 

^  Mel  Heliconium,  by  Alex.  Rosse,  His  Majestic^ s  Chaplein  m  Ordmaty, 
1646,  p.  45. 


Old  English  Verse  231 

Our  hands  must  work  salvation, 
Our  heads  must  meditate  upon 

Heaven's  shining  canopy ; 
Our  tongues  must  praise  God's  actions, 
The  feet  of  our  affections 

For  sin  must  wounded  be. 
I  will  before  my  Altar  stand, 
With  sacrifices  in  my  hand, 

And  thus  to  God  will  pray  : 
Lord,  heal  these  wounded  feet  of  mine, 
Then  make  me  as  a  star  to  shine, 

Or  as  the  brightest  day. 
Give  me  the  head  of  knowledge,  and 
A  well-tuned  tongue,  a  working  hand, 

And  feet  which  may  Thy  blow 
Endure  !     O,  wound  me,  so  that  I 
By  wounds  may  be  prepared  to  die 

And  weaned  from  things  below. ^ 

The  following  stanzas  are  part  of  a  longer  poem  than 
the  rest,  founded  upon  the  story  of  Fortuna,  daughter 
of  Oceanus.  They  appear  to  me  worthy  to  rank 
high  in  any  record  of  the  sacred  poetry  of  our  older 
writers  : — 

But  as  the  fire  refines  the  gold, 

And  as  the  cold 
Revives  the  fire  ;  and  as  in  frost 

The  stars  shine  most : 
And  as  the  palm  lifts  up  his  crest 
The  higher  that  it  is  opprest : 

So  crosses  and  affliction 

Which  fall  upon 
The  just,  makes  not  their  faith  to  fail 

Nor  courage  quail ; 
Who  shine,  burn,  sparkle,  fructify 
As  gold,  fire,  stars,  and  the  palm-tree. 

I  'd  rather  have  a  blustering  gale 

And  swelling  sail, 
Than  lie  becalmed  in  the  main, 

And  ne'er  attain 
My  wished  port  ;  O  let  the  blast 
Of  troubles  drive  me  home  at  last  ! 

^  Mel  Heliconhcvi,  p.  94. 


232  Religious  Thought  in 


That  tree  is  strong  and  firmly  fixed 

Which  is  perplext 
With  frequent  storms,  which  when  they  blow, 

The  roots  below 
Take  stronger  hold  ;  O,  if  I  were 
Strong  as  this  tree  my  storms  to  bear  ! 

The  idle  sword  breeds  rust,  the  cloth 

Begets  the  moth, 
Not  worm  ;  the  standing  water  dies, 

And  putrifies  : 
We  first  must  tread  the  Camomell, 
Or  else  it  will  afford  no  smell. 

The  pilot's  skill  how  can  we  know 

Till  tempests  blow  ? 
How  is  that  soldier's  valour  seen 

Which  ne'er  had  been 
In  fight?  they  scarce  true  soldiers  are, 
That  have  no  wound  to  shew,  nor  scar. 

Those  soldiers  which  the  General 

Calls  out  of  all 
His  army  to  attempt  some  great 

And  brave  exploit. 
Are  those  sure  whom  he  means  to  grace 
With  honour,  and  some  higher  place. 

Except  we  fight,  there  is  no  crown 

And  no  renown  ; 
Unless  we  sweat  in  the  vineyard 

There 's  no  reward  : 
Unless  we  climb  Mount  Calvary, 
Mount  Olivet  we  shall  not  see. 

God  loves  his  sons,  and  them  corrects 

Whom  he  respects, 
And  whips  them  when  they  gad  and  roam, 

And  brings  them  home. 
And  fits  them,  that  He  may  advance 
Them  to  their  due  inheritance. 


All  whom  God  means  shall  bear  his  blows. 

He  hard'neth  those  ; 
He  wrestles  with  those  sons  of  His 
Whom  He  will  bless  : 


Old  English  Verse  233 

With  Jacob  if  He  make  thee  lame, 
He'll  bless  thee  and  enlarge  thy  name. 

Lord,  if  this  be  Thy  Providence, 

Teach  me  from  hence, 
How  I  may  patiently  drink  up 

That  deadly  cup 
Which  Thy  Son  drank  ;  help  me  to  bear 
His  Cross,  that  I  His  Crown  may  wear.^ 

There  is  a  pathetic  interest  in  the  aspirations  which 
conclude  the  book,  written  as  they  were  at  the  outbreak 
of  the  civil  troubles  : — 

And  let  the  good  ship  ride 
Called  Charity,  securely  on  the  main  ; 

Be  pilot,  Lord,  and  guide 
Her  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  ;  let  her  gain 
The  land  of  promise  ;  with  the  gale 
Of  Thy  good  Spirit  fill  her  sail. 

And  let  her  compass  be 
Thy  word,  and  with  the  helm  of  discipline 

From  sinful  rocks  keep  me, 
And  let  the  pole-star  of  Thy  truth  be  seen  ; 
Let  Faith,  the  bright  eye  of  my  soul. 
Be  always  looking  on  that  Pole. 

The  man  of  Thy  right  hand 
Preserve,  Lord,  as  the  apple  of  thine  eye  ; 

And  from  this  sinful  land 
Let  not  true  Love  with  her  two  sisters  fly  ; 
But  as  its  name  is  Albion, 
So  in  it  still  let  all  be  one  !  ^ 

The  poems  of  Patrick  Carey  were  first  published  by 
Sir  Walter  Scott  from  a  single  MS.  bearing  the  date 
165 1.  His  verses  show  that  he  was  a  lawyer,  a  sup- 
porter of  the  Royalist  party,  and  a  High  Churchman, 
or  possibly  a  Roman  Catholic.  The  following  are 
from  his  Triolets-. — 

All  those  joys  which  caught  my  mind 

Now  I  find 

To  be  bubbles,  full  of  wind  : 

^  Mel  Heliconmm,  p.  154.  -  Id.  176. 


234  Religious  Thought  in 


Glowworms,  only  shining  bright 

When  that  we 

Clouded  be 

By  dark  folly's  stupid  night. 

Looking  up  then  I  did  go 

To  and  fro, 

When  indeed  they  were  below  : 

For  now  that  mine  eyes  see  clear, 

Fair  no  more, 

Small  and  poor, 

Far  beneath  me  they  appear. 

But  a  nobler  light  I  spy, 

Much  more  high 

Than  that  sun  which  shines  i'  th'  sky 

Since  its  sight,  all  earthly  things 

I  detest : 

There  to  rest 

Give,  O  give  me  the  Dove's  wings. 


Another  Triolet 


Worldly  designs,  fears,  hopes,  farewell ! 
Farewell  all  earthly  joys  and  cares  ! 
On  nobler  thoughts  my  soul  shall  dwell. 
Worldly  designs,  fears,  hopes,  farewell ! 
All  quiet,  in  my  peaceful  cell 
I  '11  think  on  God,  free  from  your  snares. 
Worldly  designs,  fears,  hopes,  farewell ! 
Farewell  all  earthly  joys  and  cares. 

I  '11  seek  my  God's  law  to  fulfil, 
Riches  and  power  I  '11  set  at  nought. 
Let  others  strive  for  them  that  will ; 
I  '11  seek  my  God's  law  to  fulfil  : 
Lest  sinful  pleasures  my  soul  kill, 
By  folly's  vain  delights  first  caught, 
I  '11  seek  my  God's  law  to  fulfil, — 
Riches  and  power  I  '11  set  at  naught. 

Yes,  my  dear  God,  I  've  found  it  so  ; 
No  joys  but  Thine  are  purely  sweet ; 
Other  delights  come  mixed  with  woe. 
Yes,  my  dear  Lord,  I  've  found  it  so. 
Pleasure'^ at  Courts  is  but  a  show  : 
With  true  content  in  cells  we  meet  ; 
Yes,  my  dear  Lord,  I  've  found  it  so. 
No  joys  but  Thine  are  purely  sweet. 


Old  English  Verse  235 

From  Dirige  nos,  D online  : — 

Open  thyself  and  then  look  in  ; 
Consider  what  thou  mightst  have  been, 
And  what  thou  art  now  made  by  sin. 

Ashamed  o'  th'  state  to  which  th  'art  brought, 

Detest  and  grieve  for  each  past  fault, 

Sigh,  weep,  and  blush  for  each  foul  thought. 

Fear,  but  despair  not,  and  still  love  ; 
Look  humbly  up  to  God  above. 
And  Him  thou  'It  soon  to  pity  move. 

Resolve  on  that  which  prudence  shows, 
Reform  what  thou  dost  well  propose. 
And  keep  i'  th'  way  thou  hast  once  chose. 

Vice,  and  what  looks  like  vicious  shun  ; 
Let  use  make  good  acts  eas'ly  done  : 
Have  zeal,  as  when  th'  hadst  first  begun. 

Hope  strongly,  yet  be  humble  still  : 
Thy  good  is  God's  ;  what's  thine,  is  ill ; 
Do  thus,  and  thee  affect  He  will. 

William  Drummond  (i 585-1649)  'the  first  Scotch 
poet  who  wrote  in  English  with  purity  and  elegance,' 
was  son  of  Sir  John  Drummond,  an  officer  in  the  Court 
of  James  VI.  He  Hved  a  retired,  tranquil  life  in  his 
pleasant  home  at  Hawthornden,  where  he  devoted  much 
of  his  time  to  classical  studies,  to  poetry,  and  to  writing 
the  history  of  his  country.  He  kept  up  a  friendly  in- 
tercourse with  Ben  Jonson  and  other  English  poets, 
also  with  several  eminent  men  abroad,  whose  acquaint- 
ance he  had  made  in  a  visit  to  France,  Germany,  and 
Italy.  Without  taking  much  personal  share  in  the 
great  struggle  of  his  time,  he  was  a  thorough  Cavalier 
in  sympathy,  and  frequently  had  to  suffer  molestation 
on  that  account.  His  great  grief  at  the  King  being 
brought  to  the  scaffold  is  said  to  have  shortened  his 
life. 

Drummond's  Flowers  of  Sion  were  published  in 
1630.  The  Divine  Poems,  and  the  rest  of  his  poetry, 
appeared  partly  in  16 16,  and  partly  in  the  complete 
edition  of  his  works,  which  did  not  appear  till  171 1. 
The  following  are  from  the  Flowers  of  Sion  : — 


236  Religious  Thought  in 

Love,  which  is  here  a  care, 

That  wit  and  will  doth  mar, 

Uncertain  truce,  and  a  most  certain  war, 

A  shrill  tempestuous  wind, 

Which  doth  disturb  the  mind. 

And  like  wild  waves  all  our  designs  commove : 

Among  those  powers  above, 

Which  see  their  Maker's  face, 

It  a  contentment  is,  a  quiet  peace, 

A  pleasure  void  of  grief,  a  constant  rest, 

Eternal  joy  which  nothing  can  molest.^ 

Why,  worldlings,  do  ye  trust  frail  honour's  dreams, 
And  lean  to  gilded  glories  which  decay  ? 
Why  do  ye  toil  to  registrate  your  names 
On  icy  pillars  which  soon  melt  away  ? 
True  honour  is  not  here  ;  that  place  it  claims 
Where  black-browed  night  doth  not  exile  the  day 
Nor  no  far-shining  lamp  dives  in  the  sea. 
But  an  eternal  sun  spreads  lasting  beams  ; 
There  it  attendeth  you  where  spotless  bands 
Of  spirits  stand  gazing  on  their  sovereign  Bliss, 
Where  years  not  hold  it  in  their  cank'ring  hands. 
But  who  once  noble  ever  noble  is. 

Look  home,  lest  he  your  weakened  wit  make  thrall, 
Who  Eden's  foolish  gardener  erst  made  fall. 

Sweet  bird,  that  sing'st  away  the  early  hours 
Of  winters  past  or  coming,  void  of  care, 
Well  pleased  with  delights  which  present  are, 
Fair  seasons,  budding  sprays,  sweet-smelling  flowers — 
To  rocks,  to  springs,  to  rills,  from  leafy  bowers. 
Thou  thy  Creator's  goodness  dost  declare. 
And  what  dear  gifts  on  thee  He  did  not  spare, 
A  stain  to  human  sense  in  sin  that  lowers. 
What  soul  can  be  so  sick  which  by  thy  songs 
(Attired  in  sweetness)  sweetly  is  not  driven 
Quite  to  forget  earth's  turmoils,  spites,  and  wrongs. 
And  lift  a  reverent  eye  and  thought  to  heaven  ? 
Sweet,  artless  songster,  thou  my  mind  dost  raise 
To  airs  of  spheres,  yea,  and  to  angels'  lays. 
Among  the  Divine  Poems  are  various  hymns,  as  for 
the  several    days   of  the  week,  the  Sundays  in  Lent, 
the  chief  festivals  of  the  Church,  the  Dedication  of  a 
Church,  etc. 

^  Driimmond' s  Works,  Anderson's  English  Poets^  vol.  iv. 


Old  English  Verse  237 

Joseph  Beaumont,  Regius  Professor  of  Divinity  at 
Cambridge,  and  Master  of  Peterhouse,  wrote  during 
the  civil  troubles,  and  published  soon  after  the  Restora- 
tion, his  poem  of  Psyche,  or  Loves  Mystery.  It  is  an 
inordinately  long  poem,  of  some  four  or  five  hundred 
thousand  lines,  telling  in  allegory  the  history  of  a 
human  soul  and  its  redemption  by  Christ.  The  soul 
is  led  by  Grace  and  by  her  Guardian  Angel.  Lust, 
Pride,  Heresy,  Persecution,  Spiritual  Dereliction,  beset 
her  on  her  way,  till  she  reaches  eternal  felicity  at  last. 
In  proof  and  testimony  of  the  Saviour's  love  to  the 
soul,  several  of  the  cantos  are  devoted  to  a  history  of 
Christ's  life  on  earth.  This,  at  all  events  to  a  modern 
reader,  constitutes  far  the  most  interesting  part  of  the 
book,  the  incidents  of  the  Gospel  history,  especially 
those  of  the  Passion,  being  told  with  no  small  degree 
of  imaginative  force,  and  with  a  strong  and  powerful 
colouring,  which  is  sometimes  rather  coarse,  and  some- 
times too  histrionic,  but  exceedingly  vivid,  and,  where 
it  tells  of  suffering,  terribly  so.  The  rest  of  the  narra- 
tive, however  unreadable  a  great  part  of  it  now  is,  may, 
when  books  were  comparatively  few,  and  when  allegory 
was  still  popular,  have  been  to  the  taste  of  many,  a  sort 
of  Pilgrim's  Progress.  In  the  preface  to  the  second 
folio  edition,  Charles  Beaumont,  son  of  the  author,  says 
that  the  first  edition  had  become  very  scarce  and  very 
dear,  and  that  its  republication  had  been  '  earnestly  and 
often  desired  by  many.'  Out  of  this  great  sea  of  verse 
I  extract  a  few  short  quotations  of  man  and  his 
passion  : — 

What  boots  it,  man,  that  nature's  courtesy. 

Lifting  his  awful  looks  high  towards  heaven, 

Hath  built  his  temples  up  with  majesty, 

And  into  his  hand  imperial  power  given  ? 
What  royal  non-sense  is  a  diadem 
Abroad — for  one  who 's  not  at  home  supreme  ? 

How  does  this  wild  world  mock  him,  when  it  lays 
Its  universal  homage  at  his  feet  ; 
Whom,  whilst  the  air,  the  earth,  the  sea  obeys, 
A  saucy  pack  of  passions  dare  to  meet 


238  Religious  Thought  in 

With  plain  defiance,  and  presume  to  hope 
His  pleasure  shall  go  down,  their  pleasure  up.^ 

Of  *  the  holy  travellers  through  cold  and  frost '  reach- 
ing Bethlehem  : — 

The  men  were  ice  ;  so  were  their  doors,  for  both 
Hard  frozen  stood  against  poor-looking  guests  : 
Where'er  they  knocked  the  surly  host  was  wroth, 
Crying  '  My  house  is  full.'     Indeed  those  nests 
Were  only  courteous  traps,  which  barred  out 
All  birds  but  such  as  store  of  feathers  brought. 

Thus  was  the  Universe's  King  shut  out 

Of  his  own  world  as  he  was  entering  in  : 

Long  had  the  noble  pilgrims  patient  sought, 

And  yet  could  at  no  door  admission  win, 
And  now  night  crowded  on  apace,  and  drew 
Their  curtain,  who  as  yet  no  lodging  knew.^ 

Of  the  dennoniac  healed  : — 

But  ne'er  did  air  put  on  so  calm  a  face, 

When  every  wind  to  its  own  home  was  blown. 

And  heaven  of  all  its  storms  delivered,  as 

Redeemed  he,  now  once  again  his  own, 

Finding  the  furies  which  his  heart  did  swell 
Had  left  himself  within  himself  to  dwell. 

Of  zeal,  fired  by  the  Cup  of  Life  : — 

Oft  have  I  seen  brave  spirits  when  they  rose 
From  this  great  Banquet,  filled  with  generous  rage. 
Fly  in  the  face  of  vice,  and  nobly  choose 
Against  its  stoutest  ramparts  to  engage 

Their  heavenly  confidence  :  nor  has  their  high 

Adventure  failed  to  reach  down  victory. 

Oft  have  I  seen  them  smile  in  sweet  disdain 

Upon  misfortune's  most  insulting  look, 

Oft  have  I  seen  them  kindly  entertain 

Those  guests  faint  human  nature  worst  can  brook, 
Grief,  sickness,  loss,  oppression,  calumny. 
Shame,  plunder,  banishment  and  poverty.  ^ 

^  Psyche,  Canto  v.,  stanzas  I,  2.  -  Id.  Canto  vii.,  stanzas  134-6. 

'  Id.  Canto  X.  stanza  297.  "*  Id.  Canto  xii.  stanzas  15 1-2. 


Old  English  Verse  239 

Of  the  Lord's  Day  :— 

The  other  Sabbath  was  a  shade  of  Thee  ; 
And  Thou  the  copy  out  of  that  which  shall, 
Amid  the  triumphs  of  Immensity, 
Be  all  Heaven's  everlasting  festival ; 

That  Sabbath,  which  no  higher  name  shall  know 
Than  this,  the  Lord's  Day  ;  and  that  day  art  Thou.^ 
Joseph  Hall(i  574-1656),  bishop  successively  of  Exeter 
and  Norwich,  is  now  best  remembered  by  his  Medita- 
tions, the  one  among  his  voluminous  prose  writings 
which  has  maintained  a  place  in  popular  esteem.  His 
satires,  written  in  earlier  life,  while  he  was  a  fellow  at 
Emanuel  College,  Cambridge,  were  the  first  English 
compositions  of  their  kind.  Although  he  had  always 
been  a  vigorous  defender  of  Episcopacy,  he  was  in  most 
respects  a  Puritan.  He  was  sent  in  161 8  to  the  Synod 
of  Dort  with  some  other  English  Divines,  preached  a 
Latin  sermon  before  the  Assembly  and  was  received 
with  very  special  honours.  When  the  Civil  War  broke 
out,  he  protested  against  the  validity  of  laws  passed 
during  the  compelled  absence  of  the  bishops  from 
Parliament.  He  was  committed  to  the  Tower,  and 
though  released  after  a  few  months'  captivity,  had 
his  revenues  sequestered,  and  was  reduced  for  the  rest 
of  his  life  to  poverty. 

Bishop  Hall  translated  into  verse  the  first  ten  Psalms, 
but  with  no  particular  success.  The  following  is  part 
of  one  of  his  Anthems : — 

Lord,  what  art  Thou.?     Pure  life,  power,  beauty,  bliss  : 

Where  dwell'st  Thou  ?  Up  above,  in  perfect  light ; 
What  is  Thy  time?  Eternity  it  is  : 

What  state  ?  Attendance  of  each  glorious  spright  ; 
Thyself,  Thy  place,  Thy  days,  Thy  state 
Pass  all  the  thoughts  of  power  create. 
How  shall  I  reach  Thee,  Lord  ?     Oh,  soar  above, 

Ambitious  soul  :  But  which  way  shall  I  fly  ? 

Thou,  Lord,  art  way  and  end  :  What  wings  have  1 1 

Aspiring  thoughts,  of  faith,  of  hope,  of  love  : 

Oh,  let  these  wings,  that  way  alone, 

Present  me  to  Thy  blissful  throne.- 

^  Psyche,  Canto  xv.  stanza  113. 

-   IV  orks  of  Joseph  Hall,  1S39,  vol.  xii.  p.  317. 


240  Religioiis  Thought  in 

Francis  Rous  (i  579-1658)  a  Cornishman,  was  Provost 
of  Eton  in  1643,  member  of  Parliament  for  Devonshire 
in  1653,  and  for  Cornwall  in  1656.  He  was  a  Presby- 
terian, one  of  Cromwell's  Privy  Council,  a  *  trier  of 
clerical  candidates'  and  a  lay  member  of  the  West- 
minster Assembly  of  Divines.  His  version  of  the 
Psalms  was  accepted  and  published  by  Parliament  in 
1646.  In  1649  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Kirk  of 
Scotland  approved  it,  and  it  has  been  largely  used  there 
ever  since.  It  is  described  as  having  vigour,  though 
often  prosaic  and  ungraceful.  The  version  of  the  23d 
Psalm,  beginning  '  The  Lord  's  my  Shepherd,  I  '11  not 
want,'  is  considered  his  best.^ 

The  following  lines  have  an  interest,  as  coming  from 
the  hand  of  William  Bradford  (1590- 1657),  one  of  the 
'  Pilgrim  Fathers '  who  went  to  America  in  the  May- 
flower. He  was  Governor  of  Plymouth  in  Massa- 
chusetts : — 

Providence  and  the  Pilgrim. 

From  my  years  young  in  days  of  youth, 

God  did  make  known  to  me  this  truth, 

And  call'd  me  from  my  native  place 

For  to  enjoy  the  means  of  orrace. 

In  wilderness  He  did  me  guide, 

And  in  strange  lands  for  me  provide. 

In  fears  and  wants,  through  weal  and  woe, 

A  pilgrim,  passed  I  to  and  fro  : 

Oft  left  of  them  whom  I  did  trust ; 

How  vain  it  is  to  rest  on  dust  ! 

A  man  of  sorrow  I  have  been. 

And  many  changes  I  have  seen. 

Wars,  wants,  peace,  plenty,  have  I  known  ; 

And  some  advanced,  others  thrown  down. 

The  humble  poor, — cheerful  and  glad  ; 

Rich, — discontent,  sour  and  sad  : 

When  fears  and  sorrows  have  been  mixt 

Consolations  came  betwixt. 

Faint  not,  poor  soul,  in  God  still  trust. 

Fear  not  the  things  thou  suffer  must  ; 

^  Duffield's  English  Hytmis^  1886,  p.  533. 


Old  English  Verse  241 

For  whom  He  loves  He  doth  chastise, 
And  then  all  tears  wipes  from  their  eyes.^ 

The  following  are  a  few  lines  upon  the  treasures  of 
Scripture.  They  are  by  Peter  Heylyn  (1600-62),  chap- 
lain to  Charles  I.,  a  divine  of  some  note,  who,  in  the 
time  of  the  civil  disturbances,  took  an  active  part  in 
supporting  the  royal  and  ecclesiastical  prerogatives : — 

If  thou  art  merry,  here  are  airs  ; 

If  melancholy,  here  are  prayers  ; 

If  studious,  here  are  those  things  writ  ; 

Which  may  deserve  thy  ablest  wit  ; 

If  hungry,  here  is  food  divine  ; 

If  thirsty,  nectar,  heavenly  wine. 

Read  then  ;  but,  first,  thyself  prepare 
To  read  with  zeal  and  mark  with  care  ; 
And  when  thou  readst  what  here  is  writ. 
Let  thy  best  practice  second  it  : 
So  twice  each  precept  read  shall  be, — 
First  in  the  book,  and,  next,  in  thee.^ 

Mildmay,  second  Earl  of  Westmoreland  (i 601 -1664), 
was  Herrick's  contemporary  and  friend.  In  the  Civil 
War  he  declared  for  the  King,  and  remained  with  him 
till  1663.  He  then  submitted  to  the  Parliament.  His 
Otia  Sacra  was  never  published,  but  was  privately 
printed  for  gifts  in  1648.  An  impression  of  fifty  copies 
of  it  was  edited  a  few  years  ago  by  Mr.  Grosart. 

The  following  is  entitled  To  Kiss  God's  Rod: — 

Whatever  God's  divine 

Decree 
Awardeth  unto  mine 
Or  me. 
Though  't  may  seem  ill, 
With  patience 
I  am  resolved  to  undergo, 
Nor  to  His  purpose  once  say  no. 
But  moderate  both  mind  and  will  : 
And  conquering  the  rebellions  of  sense 
Place  all  content  in  true  obedience.^ 

1  Stedman  and  Hutchinson's  Library  of  American  Literature,  1889, 
i.  115. 

'^  Quoted  by  F.  Saunders  in  Evenings  wtth  the  Sacred  Poets,  232. 
^  Poems  of  Mildmay,  Earl  of  Westitioreland ,  ed,  by  Grosart,  p.  21. 

Q 


242  Religious  Thought  in 

I  add  two  short  extracts,  more  for  the  worthiness  of 
the  man  than  of  his  verse. 

From  A  Dedication  of  my  First  Son  : — 

Wherefore  accept,  I  pray  Thee,  this, 
Thou'st  given,  and  my  first  son  is. 

Let  him  be  Thine,  and  from  his  cradleing 

Begin  his  service's  first  reckoning. 

Grant  with  his  days  Thy  grace  increase  and  fill 
His  heart,  nor  leave  there  room  to  harbour  ill. 
That  in  the  progress  of  his  years 
He  may  express  v/hose  badge  he  wears. ^ 

From  My  Happy  Life  : — 

First  my  God  served,  I  do  commend 
The  rest  to  some  choice  book  or  friend, 
Wherein  I  may  such  treasure  find 
T'  enrich  my  nobler  part,  the  mind  ; 
And  that  my  body  health  comprise 
Use  too  some  moderate  exercise  ; 
Whether  invited  to  the  field, 
To  see  what  pastime  that  can  yield. 
With  horse,  or  hound,  or  hawk,  or  t'  be 
More  taken  with  a  well-grown  tree 
Under  whose  shades  I  may  rehearse 
The  holy  lays  of  sacred  verse.^ 

William  Habington  (1605- 1645)  belonged  to  a  Roman 
Catholic  family,  and  was  educated  for  the  Jesuit  order, 
which,  however,  he  declined  to  enter.  He  married  a 
daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  the  '  Castara ' 
of  his  poems,  which  contain  much  that  is  admirable  in 
purity  and  dignity  of  thought.  The  following  is 
headed  : — 

A'ox  nodi  indicat  Scientiam. 

When  I  survey  the  bright 

Celestial  sphere, — 
So  rich  with  jewels  hung,  that  night 
Doth  like  an  ^thiop  bride  appear,— 

My  soul  her  wings  doth  spread, 

And  heavenward  flies, 
Th'  Almighty's  mysteries  to  read 
In  the  large  volumes  of  the  skies. 

^  Poems  of  Mi  Idf nay,  Earl  0/  lVesimoreland,ed.hyGrosart,  1879,  p.  S^. 
'  Id.  135. 


Old  English  Verse  243 

For  the  large  firmament 

Shoots  forth  no  flame 
So  silent,  but  is  eloquent 
In  speaking  the  Creator's  name. 

No  unregarded  star 

Contracts  its  light 
Into  so  small  a  character, 
Removed  far  from  our  human  sight, 

But  if  we  steadfast  look. 

We  shall  discern 
In  it,  as  in  some  holy  book, 
How  man  may  heavenly  knowledge  learn. 

It  tells  the  conqueror, 

That  far-stretch'd  power, 
Which  his  proud  dangers  traffic  for, 
Is  but  the  triumph  of  an  hour  ; 

That  from  the  furthest  North 

Some  nation  may, 
Yet  undiscover'd,  issue  forth 
And  o'er  his  new-got  conquest  sway. 

Some  nation,  yet  shut  in 

With  hills  of  ice, 
May  be  let  out  to  scourge  his  sin, 
Till  they  shall  equal  him  in  vice. 

And  then  they  likewise  shall 

Their  ruin  have  ; 
For,  as  yourselves,  your  empires  fall. 
And  every  kingdom  hath  a  grave. 

Thus  those  celestial  fires. 

Though  seeming  mute. 
The  fallacy  of  our  desires 
And  all  the  pride  of  life  confute. 

For  they  have  watch'd  since  first 

The  world  had  birth  : 
And  found  sin  in  itself  accurst. 
And  nothing  permanent  on  earth.^ 

From  Cupio  Dissolvi : — 

For  in  the  fire  when  ore  is  tried 
And  by  that  torment  purified, 

^  Habingioris  Poems  ;  Chalmers's  British  Poets,  vi.  476. 


244  Religious  Thought  in 

Do  we  deplore  the  loss  ? 
And  when  Thou  shalt  my  soul  refine, 
That  it  thereby  may  purer  shine, 

Shall  I  grieve  for  the  dross  ?  ^ 

Christopher  Harvey  (i 597-1663)  was  appointed  in 
1630  to  the  Rectory  of  Whitney,  on  the  Wye,  and  in 
1639  to  the  Vicarage  of  CUfton,  in  Warwickshire.  He 
was  also  for  a  time  Master  of  Kington  Grammar  School 
in  Herefordshire.  His  series  of  poems  entitled  The 
Synagogue^  as  well  as  his  Schola  Cordis^  were  both  pub- 
lished in  1647,  anonymously.  He  modestly  called 
himself  an  imitator  of  George  Herbert,  and  both  in  his 
devout  churchmanly  thought,  and  in  the  humours  and 
subtleties  of  language  with  which  his  thoughts  are  ex- 
pressed, following  in  his  teacher's  steps.  The  Synagogue 
of  Harvey  has  often  been  bound  up,  not  unaptly,  with 
Herbert's  Temple,  Certainly  in  this  case  the  disciple 
is  not  equal  to  his  master  ;  but  some  of  his  poems  are, 
in  their  originality  and  fervency  of  thought,  something 
far  better  than  mere  imitation.  The  following  is  named 
Invitation  : — 

Turn  in,  my  Lord,  turn  in  to  me  ; 

Mine  heart 's  a  homely  place, 
But  thou  canst  make  corruption  flee 

And  fill  it  with  Thy  grace  : 
So  furnished,  it  will  be  brave, 
And  a  rich  dwelling  Thou  shalt  have. 

It  was  Thy  lodging  once  before  ; 

It  builded  was  by  Thee  ; 
But  I  by  sin  set  ope  the  door  ; 

It  rendered  was  by  me  ;  [given  up] 
And  so  the  building  was  defaced 
And  in  Thy  room  another  placed. 

But  he  usurps  ;  the  right  is  Thine  : 

O  dispossess  him,  Lord  ; 
Do  Thou  but  say,  '  This  heart  is  mine,' 

He's  gone  at  the  first  word  ; 
Thy  word 's  Thy  will,  Thy  will 's  Thy  power, 
Thy  time  is  always.     Now's  mine  hour. 

^  Habington^s  Poems ^  482. 


Old  English  Verse  245 

Now  say  to  sin,  '  Depart,' 
And  '  Son,  give  me  thine  heart ! ' 
Thou,  that  by  saying,  '  Let  it  be,'  didst  make  it, 
Canst,  if  Thou  wilt,  by  saying,  *  Give't  me,'  take  it.^ 

The  following  is  from  The  SeediJig  of  the  Heart: — 

Lord,  I  have  lain 

Barren  too  long,  and  fain 
I  would  redeem  the  time,  that  I  may  be 

Fruitful  to  Thee — 
Fruitful  in  knowledge,  faith,  obedience. 

Ere  I  go  hence  ; 

That  when  I  come 
At  harvest  to  be  reaped,  and  brought  home, 

Thine  angels  may 
My  soil  in  thy  celestial  garner  lay. 

Where  perfect  joy  and  bliss 
Eternal  is. 

If  to  entreat 

A  crop  of  purest  wheat, 
A  blessing  too  transcendent  should  appear 

For  me  to  bear. 
Lord,  make  me  what  Thou  wilt,  so  Thou  wilt  take 

What  Thou  dost  make, 

And  not  disdain 
To  house  me,  though  among  Thy  coarsest  grain  ; 

So  I  may  be 
Laid  with  the  gleanings  gathered  by  Thee 

When  the  full  sheaves  are  spent, 
I  am  content.^ 

Of  the  Bible  :— 

The  Bible,  that's  the  Book— the  Book  indeed, 
The  Book  of  books  ; 
On  which  who  looks, 
As  he  should  do,  aright,  shall  never  need 
Wish  for  a  better  light 
To  guide  him  in  the  night. 

It  is  the  looking-glass  of  souls,  wherein 
All  men  may  see 
Whether  they  be 
Still,  as  by  nature  th'  are,  deform'd  with  sin  ; 
Or  in  a  better  case, 
As  new  adorned  with  grace. 

1  Christopher  Harvey's  Poems,  ed.  by  Grosart.    The  Synagogue,  No.  57. 
^  Schola  Cordis,  Ode  28. 


246  Religious  Thought  in 


'Tis  the  great  magazine  of  spiritual  arms, 
Wherein  doth  he 
Th' artillery 
Of  heav'n  ready  charged  against  all  harms 
That  might  come  by  the  blows 
Of  our  infernal  foes. 


It  is  the  index  [pointer]  to  eternity ; 

He  cannot  miss 

Of  endless  bliss, 
That  takes  this  chart  to  steer  his  voyage  by.^ 

Of  good  doctrine  preached  without  skill : — 

So  that  the  meat  be  wholesome,  though 
The  sauce  shall  not  be  toothsome,  I  '11  not  go 

Empty  away,  and  starve  my  soul 
To  feed  my  foolish  fancy.^ 

When  the  Liturgy  was  finally  revised  in  1661,  the 
translation  of  Ve7ii  Creator,  as  it  stands  in  our  Consecra- 
tion and  Ordination  Services,  '  Come,  Holy  Ghost,  our 
Soul  inspire,'  was  introduced.  It  is  by  Bishop  Cosin, 
and  is  rather  a  shortened  paraphrase  than  a  translation 
of  the  old  Latin  hymn. 

Thomas  Fuller  (i  608-1 661),  so  well  known  by  his 
History  of  the  Worthies  of  England,  was,  before  the 
Civil  War,  Prebend  of  Salisbury  and  Lecturer  at  the 
Savoy,  to  which  preferments  he  was  restored  in  1660. 
He  was  a  sincere  but  moderate  Royalist,  a  learned  man, 
and  a  very  eminent  preacher.  His  first  publication,  1631, 
written  while  he  was  a  Fellow  of  Sidney  College,  Cam- 
bridge, was  a  poem  on  David's  Sin  and  Repentance, 
from  which  I  take  the  following  verses  : — 

Go,  fond  afifectors  of  a  flaunting  strain. 

Whose  sermons  strike  at  sins  with  slanting  blows; 

Give  me  the  man  that 's  powerful  and  plain, 

The  monster  vice  unmasked  to  expose  : 

Such  preachers  do  the  soul  and  marrow  part. 
And  cause  the  guilty  conscience  to  smart ; 
Such  please  no  itching  ears,  but  pierce  the  heart. 

'   Christopher  Harvey's  Poems,  The  Synagogue,  No.  14.       -'  Id.  No.  15. 


Old  English  Verse  247 

This  made  King  David's  marble  mind  to  melt, 

And  to  the  former  temper  to  return, 

Thawing  his  frozen  breast,  whenas  he  felt 

The  lively  sparks  of  Grace  therein  to  burn, 
Which  under  ashes  cold  were  choked  before  : 
And  now  he  weeps,  and  wails,  and  sighs  full  sore. 
Though  sure  such  sorrow  did  his  joy  restore. 

So  have  I  seen  one  slumbered  in  a  swound, 

Whose  sullen  soul  into  his  heart  did  hie  : 

His  pensive  friends  soon  heave  him  from  the  ground. 

And  to  his  face  life-water  do  apply  : 

At  length  a  long  expected  sigh  doth  strive 
To  bring  the  welcome  news,  the  man's  alive, 
Whose  soul  at  last  doth  in  each  part  arrive. 

Then  to  his  harp  he  did  himself  betake, 

(His  tongue-tied  harp,  long  gone  out  of  request) 

And  next  to  this  his  glory  must  awake. 

The  member  he  of  all  accounted  best : 

Then  with  those  hands,  which  he  for  grief  did  wring, 

He  also  lightly  strikes  the  warbling  string, 

And  makes  one  voice  serve  both  to  sob  and  sing.^ 

Richard  Standfast  was  Chaplain  in  Ordinary  to 
Charles  I.,  was  deprived  of  his  preferments  during  the 
Commonwealth,  and  reinstated  at  the  Restoration.  He 
published  some  poems  in  1664.  The  following  are  the 
first  and  last  verses  of  Complaint  of  a  Sinner'. — 

Sin,  sin 
With  my  life  did  begin, 
And  I  have  lived  therein 
All  my  days  heretofore  ! 
Sins  of  heart,  head,  hand  and  tongue, 
Through  my  life  all  along, 
Like  a  thread  have  they  run. 
Binding  me  to  be  undone  : 
Many  and  great  are  they  grown  ; 
And  if  justice  scan  the  score, 
I  must  perish  evermore. 

Grace,  grace. 
In  my  heart  do  Thou  place, 
That  I  may  win  the  race 

^  Davids  Heartie  Repentance,  etc.,  by  Thomas  Fuller,  1631  ;  Grosart, 
1868. 


248  Religious  Thought  i7i 

Which  Thy  laws  do  require. 
Give  me,  Lord,  I  humbly  sue, 
Grace  to  know,  grace  to  do, 
Grace  that  may  me  so  renew, 
And  confirm  and  perfect  too. 
That,  when  death  shall  claim  his  due 
Grace  m  glory  may  expire. 
This  is  all  I  do  require.^ 

The  following,  from  the  well-known  lines,  beginning 
*  The  glories  of  our  birth  and  state,'  are  by  James 
Shirley,  the  dramatic  poet  (1596- 1666): — 

All  heads  must  come 

To  the  cold  tomb  ; 
Only  the  actions  of  the  just 
Smell  sweet  and  blossom  in  the  dust.^ 

Jeremy  Taylor,  whose  piety,  wit,  and  learning 
adorned  the  English  Church  throughout  the  troubled 
period  of  the  Commonwealth,  was  born  in  the  early 
years  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  died  in  1667. 
The  son  of  a  Cambridge  tradesman,  he  entered  Caius 
College  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  and  there  remained  till 
he  took  his  degree.  Archbishop  Laud  was  struck  by 
his  talents  while  he  was  supplying  for  a  time  the  place 
of  the  Lecturer  at  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  procured  his 
election  as  Fellow  of  All  Souls,  made  him  his  chaplain, 
and  gave  him  after  a  time  the  Rectory  of  Uppingham. 
In  1642  he  was  made  Chaplain  to, the  King,  and,  after 
the  strife  had  broken  out,  attended  him  in  his  military 
movements.  When  the  Royal  cause  was  shattered,  he 
was  allowed  to  officiate  for  the  Earl  of  Carbury  at  the 
Golden  Grove  in  Carmarthenshire,  and  to  teach  a 
school.  There  he  wrote  his  principal  works,  until, 
almost  at  a  blow,  he  lost  three  sons  by  sickness.  Then 
he  went  to  London,  and,  not  without  great  hazard, 
ministered  to  a  congregation  of  Loyalists.  He  after- 
wards went  to  Ireland  with  Lord  Conway,  and,  after 
the  Restoration,  was  made  Bishop  first  of  Down  and 

^  From  Sir  Egerton  Brydges'  British  Bibliography^  i.  71. 

-  E.  Taylor'.s  Floivers  and  Fruits  from  Old  English  Gardens^  1864,  119. 


Old  English  Verse  249 

Connor,  and  afterwards  of  Dromore.  His  Golden  Grove, 
written  during  his  retirement  in  Wales,  treated  of 
Things  to  be  Believed,  Things  to  be  Done,  Things  to 
be  Prayed  for,  and  concluded  with  some  hymns  for 
festivals  and  solemn  days.  His  vivid  and  exuberant 
imagination  found  freer  scope  in  prose  than  in  measure; 
but  his  poetry  is  by  no  means  wanting  in  the  qualities 
which  gave  splendour  to  his  general  style.  The  follow- 
ing is  part  of  a  hymn  for  Advent  : — 

When,  Lord,  O  when,  shall  we 
Our  dear  salvation  see? 

Arise,  arise  ! 

Our  fainting  eyes 
Have  longed  all  night ;  and  'twas  a  long  one  too. 

But  Thou  hast  given  us  hopes  that  we 
At  length  another  day  shall  see — 

Wherein  each  vile  neglected  place, 

Gilt  with  the  aspect  of  Thy  face. 
Shall  be,  like  that,  the  porch  and  gate  of  heaven. 

How  long,  dear  God,  how  long  ! 

See  how  the  nations  throng  : 

All  human  kind, 

Knit  and  combined 
Into  one  body,  look  for  Thee  their  Head. 

Pity  our  multitude  ; 

Lord,  we  are  vile  and  rude. 

Headless,  and  senseless,  without  Thee, 
Of  all  things  but  the  want  of  Thy  blest  face  : 
O  haste  apace, 

And  Thy  bright  self  to  this  our  body  wed  !^ 

From  the  Second  Plymn  for  Advent : — 

Lord,  come  aw9,y  : 

Why  dost  Thou  stay  ? 
The  road  is  ready,  and  Thy  paths,  made  straight, 

With  longing  expectation  wait 
The  consecration  of  Thy  beauteous  feet. 

Ride  on  triumphantly  ;  behold,  we  lay 

Our  lusts  and  proud  wills  in  Thy  way. 

Hosanna  !  welcome  to  our  hearts  !     Lord,  here 

Thou  hast  a  temple  too,  and  full  as  dear 

As  that  of  Sion,  and  as  full  of  sin  : 

^  Jeremy  Taylor's  Works,  ed.  by  Bishop  Heber,  vol.  xv.  p.  76. 


250  Religious  Thought  hi 

Nothing  but  thieves  and  robbers  dwell  therein  : 
Enter  and  chase  them  forth,  and  cleanse  the  floor. 

And  then,  if  our  stiff  tongues  shall  be 
Mute  in  the  presence  of  Thy  Deity, 
The  stones  out  of  the  temple  wall 
Shall  cry  aloud,  and  call 
Hosanna  !  and  Thy  glorious  footsteps  greet.     Amen.^  ■ 

George  Wither  (i 588-1667)  is  sometimes  called  the 
Puritan  poet.  The  term  is  not  quite  correct,  for  he  did 
not  adopt  Puritan  opinions  till  1646,  and  many  of  his 
poems  were  published  long  before  this.  His  life  was 
spent  among  many  vicissitudes.  He  had  been  brought 
up  in  comfort,  if  not  in  luxury,  and  had  spent  two  years 
at  Magdalen  College,  Oxford,  when  a  sudden  reverse  in 
his  father's  fortunes  summoned  him  home  to  hold  the 
plough.  After  a  while  he  made  his  way  to  London, 
and  entered  at  Lincoln's  Inn.  He  soon  became  known 
as  a  writer  of  poetry  and  satire.  Tho  galling  force  with 
which  he  lashed  the  vices  of  the  time  made  him  enemies, 
and  lodged  him  for  some  time  in  the  Marshalsea  prison, 
where  he  appears  to  have  suffered  great  hardships.  In 
1623  he  published  his  Hymns  and  Sojigs  of  the  Church. 
They  were  set  to  music  by  Orlando  Gibbons,  one  of  the 
best  musicians  of  the  day.  In  1625  he  acted  a  noble 
part  in  aiding  the  sick  and  dying  in  the  Plague.  In 
163 1  he  published  his  version  of  the  Psalms.  During 
the  Civil  Wars  he  threw  himself  with  great  vigour  and 
vehemence  into  the  Puritan  cause,  and  at  the  Restora- 
tion was  sent  first  to  Newgate,  then  to  the  Tower.  In 
1663  he  was  released,  and  was  in  London  at  the  time 
of  the  second  Plague  and  the  Great  Fire.  He  was  always 
a  man  of  simple  piety  and  austere  principle,  and,  though 
he  changed  and  veered  in  politics,  it  was  not  from  lack 
of  honesty.  He  lost  the  Protector's  goodwill  through 
his  wholly  unbending  demeanour  to  him. 

In  his  Hymns  and  Songs  of  the  Church,  Wither  ren- 
dered into  verse  a  good  deal  of  the  poetry  both  of  the 

^  feremy  Baylor's  JVor/cs,  p.  82. 


Old  English  Verse  251 

Old  and  New  Testaments.  The  following  is  the  second 
verse  in  the  Song  of  Deborah  : — 

When  Thou  departedst,  Lord,  from  Seir, 
When  Thou  leftst  Edom's  field, 
Earth  shook,  the  heavens  dropped  there, 
The  clouds  did  water  yield. 

Lord,  at  Thy  sight 

A  trembling  fright 
Upon  the  mountains  fell  : 

E'en  at  Thy  look 

Mount  Sinai  shook. 
Lord  God  of  Israel  !^ 

These  are  followed  by  hymns  for  the  holy  days  and  fast 
days  of  the  Church,  and  for  other  special  occasions.  I 
quote  the  first  two  stanzas  out  of  sixteen  of  the  Song 
for  Good  Friday : — 

You  that  like  heedless  strangers  pass  along, 
As  if  nought  here  concerned  you  to-day  ; 

Draw  near,  and  hear  the  saddest  passion  song 
That  ever  you  did  meet  with  on  your  way  : 

So  sad  a  story  ne'er  was  told  before. 

Nor  shall  there  be  the  like  for  evermore. 

The  greatest  King  that  ever  wore  a  crown. 
More  than  the  basest  vassal  was  abused  ; 

The  truest  Lover  that  was  ever  known. 

By  them  He  loved  was  most  unkindly  used  ; 

And  He  that  was  from  all  transgressions  clear, 

Was  plagued  for  all  the  sins  that  ever  were.^ 

Among  his  other  hymns  may  be  specially  mentioned 
the  carol,  'As  on  the  Night  before  this  Happy  Morn'^ — 
the  psalm  beginning,  '  Come,  O  come,  in  pious  lays, 
Sing  we  God  Almighty's  praise  '  ^ — the  morning  hymn, 
*  Since  Thou  hast  added  now,  O  God,  Unto  my  life  an- 
other day,'  and  especially  his  evening  hymn,  *  Behold  the 
sun,  that  seemed  but  now  Enthroned  overhead,'  which 

1  George  Witker's  Hymns  and  Songs  of  the  Churchy  ed.  by  E.  Farr. 
Song  iii. 

-  Id.  Song  Iv. 

^  Id.  Song  xlvi.  It  may  be  also  seen  in  Sylvester's  Garland  of  Christ - 
mas  Carols,  p.  iii. 

^  It  is  quoted  in  Lord  Selbome's  Book  of  Praise^  as ,  are  also  the 
Morning  and  Evening  Hymns. 


252  Religious  Thought  in 

last   I  forbear  quoting,  only  to  give  more  room  for  a 
part  of  his  delightful  Lullaby  Song: — 

Sweet  baby,  sleep  !     What  ails  my  dear, 

What  ails  my  darhng  thus  to  cry? 
Be  still,  my  child,  and  lend  thine  ear 

To  hear  me  sing  thy  lullaby. 
My  pretty  lamb,  forbear  to  weep  ; 
Be  still,  my  dear  ;  sweet  baby,  sleep  ! 

Thou  blessed  soul,  what  canst  thou  fear  ? 

What  thing  to  thee  can  mischief  do  ? 
Thy  God  is  now  thy  Father  dear. 

His  holy  Spouse  thy  mother  too. 
Sweet  baby,  then,  forbear  to  weep  ; 
Be  still,  my  babe  ;  sweet  baby,  sleep. 


While  thus  thy  lullaby  I  sing, 

For  thee  great  blessings  ripening  be  : 

Thine  Eldest  Brother  is  a  King, 

And  hath  a  kingdom  bought  for  thee. 

Sweet  baby,  then,  forbear  to  weep  ; 

Be  still,  my  babe  ;  sweet  baby,  sleep. 

Sweet  baby,  sleep,  and  nothing  fear ; 

For  whosoever  thee  offends 
By  thy  protector  threatened  are. 

And  God  and  angels  are  thy  friends. 
Sweet  baby,  etc. 

When  God  with  us  was  dwelling  here. 
In  little  babes  He  took  delight  ; 

Such  innocents  as  thou,  my  dear, 
Are  ever  precious  in  His  sight. 

Sweet  baby,  etc. 

A  little  infant  once  was  He, 

And  strength  in  weakness  then  was  laid 
Upon  His  Virgin  mother's  knee, 

That  power  to  thee  might  be  conveyed. 
Sweet  baby,  etc. 

In  this  thy  frailty  and  thy  need 
He  friends  and  helpers  doth  prepare. 

Which  thee  shall  cherish,  clothe,  and  feed 
For  of  thy  weal  they  tender  are. 

Sweet  baby,  etc. 


Old  English  Verse  253 

The  wants  that  He  did  then  sustain 

Have  purchased  wealth,  my  babe,  for  thee  ; 

And  by  His  torments  and  His  pain 
Thy  rest  and  ease  secured  be. 

My  baby,  etc. 

Thou  hast,  yet  more,  to  perfect  this, 

A  promise  and  an  earnest  got 
Of  gaining  everlasting  bhss. 

Though  thou,  my  babe,  perceiv'st  it  not. 
Sweet  baby,  etc. 

Among  his  other  poems,  1  must  simply  refer  to  a 
pleasing  Hymn  for  Anniversaries  of  Marriage,  and  to 
some  pathetic  lines  on  the  Loss  of  an  only  Child} 

Nicholas  Billingsly  published  his  Treasury  of  Divine 
Raptures  in  1667.  In  it  he  has  ranged  a  great  variety 
of  subjects  in  a  series  of  short  poems,  under  the  first 
three  letters  of  the  alphabet.  They  are  not  very  note- 
worthy, but  some  contain  pithy  expressions.  Thus, 
under  the  heading  Burdens  : — 

God  never  burthens  us,  but  that  He  may 
Unburthen  us  of  sin.^ 

John  Austin,  a  Roman  Catholic,  published  in  1668  his 
Devotions  in  the  Ancient  Way  of  Offices.  Among  the 
prayers  and  meditations  there  are  a  number  of  hymns. 
The  following  is  from  the  Office  for  Sunday  Lauds  : — 

Hark,  my  soul,  how  every  thing 
Strives  to  serve  the  bounteous  king  : 
Each  a  double  tribute  pays, 
Sings  its  part,  and  then  obeys. 

Nature's  sweet  and  chiefest  quire 
Him  with  cheerful  notes  admire  ; 
Chanting  every  day  their  lauds 
Whilst  the  grove  their  song  applauds. 

Though  their  voices  lower  be, 
Streams  have  too  their  melody  ; 
Night  and  day  they  warbling  run, 
Never  pause  but  still  sing  on. 

All  the  flowers  that  gild  the  spring 
Hither  their  still  music  bring  ; 

1  E.  Taylor's  Flowers  and  Fruits  from  Old  English  Gardens^  p.  105. 

2  Corset's  Collectanea  Anglo- Poetica,  ii.  204. 


2  54  Religious  Thought  in 

If  heav'n  bless  them,  thankful  they 
Smell  more  sweet,  and  look  more  gay. 

Only  we  can  scarce  afford 
One  short  office  to  our  Lord  ; 
We  on  whom  His  bounty  flows, 
All  things  gives  and  nothing  owes. 

Wake  for  shame,  my  sluggish  heart, 
Wake,  and  gladly  sing  thy  part  ; 
Learn  of  birds  and  springs  and  flowers 
How  to  use  thy  nobler  powers. 

Call  on  nature  to  thy  aid, 

Since  'twas  He  whole  nature  made  ; 

Join  in  one  eternal  song. 

Who  to  one  God  all  belong. 

Live  for  ever,  glorious  Lord  ! 
Live  by  all  Thy  works  adored  ! 
One  in  Three,  and  Three  in  One, 
Thrice  we  bow  to  Thee  alone.^ 

The  following,  by  John  Austin,  I  borrow  from  that 
interesting  collection  of  poetry,  Poems  of  the  hiner 
Life : — 

Seeking  God. 

Fain  would  my  thoughts  fly  up  to  Thee, 

Thy  peace,  sweet  Lord,  to  find  ; 
But  when  I  offer,  still  the  world 

Lays  clogs  upon  my  mind. 

Sometimes  I  climb  a  little  way 

And  thence  look  down  below  : 
How  nothing,  there,  do  all  things  seem 

That  here  make  such  a  show  ! 

Then  round  about  I  turn  my  eyes 

To  feast  my  hungry  sight ; 
I  meet  with  heaven  in  every  thing. 

In  every  thing  delight. 

I  see  Thy  wisdom  ruling  all. 

And  it  with  joy  admire  ; 
I  see  myself  among  such  hopes 

As  set  my  heart  on  fire. 

^  John  Austin,  Devotions  in  theAncient  Way  of  Offices^  third  ed.  1684, 
p.  76. 


Old  English  Verse  255 

When  I  have  thus  triumphed  awhile, 

And  think  to  build  my  nest, 
Some  cross  conceits  come  fluttering  by 

And  interrupt  my  rest. 

Then  to  the  earth  again  I  fall. 

And  from  my  low  dust  cry, 
"Twas  not  in  my  wing,  Lord,  but  Thine, 

That  I  got  up  so  high.' 

And  now,  my  God,  whether  I  rise. 

Or  still  lie  down  in  dust, 
Both  I  submit  to  Thy  blest  will  ; 

In  both,  on  Thee  I  trust. 

Guide  thou  my  way,  who  art  Thyself 

My  everlasting  end, 
That  every  step,  or  swift  or  slow. 

Still  to  Thyself  may  tend.^ 

Henry  King  (1592- 1669)  was  a  son  of  John  King, 
Bishop  of  London.  He  himself,  after  holding  various 
preferments,  as  the  rectories  of  Chigwell,  Fulham, 
Petworth,  a  prebend  of  St.  Paul's,  the  archdeaconry  of 
Colchester,  and  the  deanery  of  Rochester,  was  con- 
secrated to  the  See  of  Chichester  in  1641.  When 
Chichester  at  the  end  of  the  next  year  surrendered  to 
the  Parliament,  his  goods  were  ransacked,  his  estates 
sequestrated,  and  he  had  to  bear  many  indignities  from 
the  soldiery.  After  a  short  imprisonment  he  was  per- 
mitted to  find  a  home  among  his  friends.  At  the 
Restoration  the  See  of  Chichester  was  restored  to  him. 
He  was  intimate  with  Isaac  Walton,  and  with  Dr. 
Donne,  whom  he  speaks  of  in  one  of  his  letters  as  his 
'dear  and  incomparable  friend.'  He  was  also  familiar 
with  George  Herbert,  Hall,  Ben  Jonson,  and  Sandys. 
His  version  of  the  Psalms  was  published  in  165 1, 
his  poems  in  1657.  His  Psalms  are  not  for  the 
most  part  very  successful.  The  following  lines  from 
Psalm  cxxxix.  are  as  worthy  as  any  of  quotation  : — 

How  shall  I  from  Thy  spirit  fly, 
Or  Thy  all-present  power  deny  ? 

^  From  Poems  of  the  Inner  Life,  1S77,  p.  117. 


256  Religious  Thought  in 

If  I  climb  Heaven,  'tis  Thine  own  sphere  ; 
If  stoop  to  Hell,  lo,  thou  art  there. 
If  borne  upon  the  morning's  wing. 
Far  as  the  sea  doth  swell  or  spring 
Thy  right  hand  shall  protect  and  lead. 
Where'er  my  weary  footsteps  tread. 
If  I  pretend  the  darkness  shall 
Upon  me  like  a  covering  fall. 
Those  heavy  fogs,  those  mists  of  night. 
Will  quickly  clear  and  turn  to  light. 
The  thickest  shade,  or  blackest  cloud. 
Can  nothing  from  Thy  knowledge  shroud 
For  darkness  doth  like  noontide  shine, 
Light'ned  by  brighter  beams  of  thine.^ 

There  is  nothing,  however,  in  King's  poems  equal  to 
the  tenderness  and  pathos  of  his  elegy  to  the  memory  of 
his  wife,  from  which  I  extract  the  following  lines  : — 

Sleep  on,  my  love,  in  thy  cold  bed, 

Never  to  be  disquieted  I 

My  last  good-night !     Thou  wilt  not  wake. 

Till  I  thy  fate  shall  overtake  : 

Till  age,  or  grief,  or  sickness  must 

Marry  my  body  to  the  dust 

It  so  much  loves  ;  and  fill  the  room 

My  heart  keeps  empty  in  thy  tomb. 

Stay  for  me  there  ;  I  will  not  fail 

To  meet  thee  in  that  hollow  Vale  : 

And  think  not  much  of  my  delay  ; 

I  am  already  on  the  way. 

And  follow  thee  with  all  the  speed 

Desires  can  make,  or  sorrows  breed, 

Each  minute  is  a  short  degree, 

And  every  hour  a  step  towards  thee. 

At  night  when  I  betake  to  rest, 

Next  morn  I  rise  nearer  my  West 

Of  life,  almost  by  eight  hours'  sail 

Than  when  sleep  breathed  his  drowsy  gale. 

The  thought  of  this  bids  me  go  on, 

And  wait  my  dissolution 

With  hope  and  comfort.     Dear  (forgive 

The  crime)  I  am  content  to  live 

Divided,  with  but  half  a  heart. 

Till  we  shall  meet  and  never  part.^ 


^  Poems  and  Psalms  of  Henry  Ktng^  ed.  by  J.  Hannah,  1845. 

-  Id.  p.  27  The  Exeqtiy. 


Old  English  Verse  257 

Richard  Crashaw  {c.  1603- 1650)  was  Fellow  of  Peter- 
House,  Cambridge,  but  was  ejected  from  his  Fellowship 
in  1644  for  refusing  to  take  the  Covenant.  He  some- 
time after  adopted  the  Roman  Catholic  Faith,  led  to  it 
by  his  enthusiastic  admiration  of  the  saintly  mystic, 
St.  Theresa.  After  suffering  much  from  extreme 
poverty  in  Paris,  he  was  introduced  by  the  poet  Cowley 
to  the  exiled  Queen  Henrietta,  and  through  her  in- 
terest became  Secretary  to  one  of  the  Cardinals,  and 
Sub-Canon  at  Loretto.  There  is  much  tenderness  and 
depth  of  feeling  in  his  sacred  verses,  none  the  less 
discernible  amid  the  quibs  and  conceits  of  language 
often  affected  by  him.  Sometimes,  however,  there  is 
too  much  of  the  love-song  in  them.  The  following 
is  from  a  poem  To  the  Name  of  Jesus  : — 

Cheer  thee,  my  heart  ; 

For  thou  too  hast  a  part 

And  place  in  the  great  throng 
Of  this  unbounded,  all-embracing  song. 

Powers  of  my  soul,  be  proud. 

And  speak  aloud 
To  all  the  dear-bought  nations  this  redeeming  name, 
And  in  the  wealth  of  one  rich  word  proclaim 

New  smiles  to  nature. 

May  it  be  no  wrong, 
Blest  Heaven,  to  you  and  your  superior  song, 
That  we,  dark  sons  of  dust  and  sorrow, 

A  while  dare  borrow 
The  name  of  your  delights  and  our  desires. 
And  fit  it  to  so  far  inferior  lyres  ; 

Our  murmurs  have  their  music  too, 

Ye  mighty  souls,  as  well  as  you, 

Nor  yield  the  noblest  nest 
Of  warbling  seraphim.s  to  the  cares  of  love 
A  choicer  lesson  than  the  loyal  breast 

Of  a  poor  panting  turtle-dove.-^ 

From  the  Divine  Epigrams  the  following  is  one  of 
two  lines  Upon  the  Sepulchre  of  our  Lord: — 

Here  where  our  Lord  once  lay  His  head 
Now  the  grave  lies  buried. 

^   Cras haw's  Poems,  Anderson's  j-ngUsh  Poets,  vol.  iv^ 
R 


258  Religious  Thought  in 

Another  is  on  Two  Men  went  up  into  the  TevipLe  to 
pray : — 

Two  went  to  pray  ?     O,  rather  say, 
One  went  to  brag,  th'  other  to  pray  : 
One  stands  up  close  and  treads  on  high. 
Where  th'  other  does  not  send  his  eye  ; 
One  nearer  to  God's  altar  trod  ; 
The  other  to  the  altar's  God. 

John,  one  of  Francis  Quarles's  eighteen  children  was, 
like  his  father,  a  writer  of  sacred  verse  (1624-65).  He 
was  at  Exeter  College.  Oxford,  served  as  chaplain  in  the 
Royal  forces,  went  abroad  during  the  Commonwealth, 
and  died  of  the  plague  in  London.  The  following  is 
from  one  of  his  hymns  : — 

Great  God,  Thy  garden  is  defaced, 

The  weeds  thrive  there,  Thy  flowers  decay 

O  call  to  mind  Thy  promise  past, 
Restore  Thou  them,  rut  these  away  : 

Till  then  let  not  the  weeds  have  power 

To  starve  or  stint  the  poorest  flower. 

Shall  mountain,  desert,  beast,  and  tree, 
Yield  to  thac  heaven  y  voice  of  Thine, 

And  shall  that  voice  noi  startle  me. 
Nor  stir  this  stone,  this  heart  of  mine? 

No,  Lord,  till  Thou  new  bore  mine  ear, 

Thy  voice  is  lost,  I  cannot  hear. 

Fountain  of  light  and  living  breath, 

Whose  mercies  never  fail  nor  fade, 
Fill  me  with  life  that  hath  no  death, 

Fill  me  with  light  that  hath  no  shade, 
Appoint  the  remnant  of  my  days 
To  see  Thy  power  and  sing  Thy  praise. 

Lord  God  of  gods,  before  whose  throne 
Stand  storms  and  fire,  O  what  shall  we 

Return  to  heaven  that  is  our  own, 
When  all  the  world  belongs  to  Thee  ? 

We  have  no  offering  to  impart 

But  praises  and  a  wounded  heart. 

What  I  possess,  or  what  I  crave 

Brings  no  content,  Great  God,  to  me. 


Old  English  Verse  259 

If  what  I  would,  or  what  I  have, 

Be  not  possest  and  blest  in  Thee  : 
What  I  enjoy,  O  make  it  mine. 
In  making  me,  that  have  it,  Thine.^ 

Abraham  Cowley  (161 8- 1667)  was  indeed  a  poet 
from  a  child,  for  his  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  which  holds  a 
respectable  place  among  his  poems,  was  written  in  his 
tenth  year,  and  before  he  was  thirteen  he  was  already 
the  author  of  a  volume  of  poetry.  From  Cambridge, 
where  he  was  at  college,  he  migrated  to  Oxford,  as 
being  the  headquarters  of  the  Royalists,  to  whom  he  had 
warmly  attached  himself  He  there  became  an  intimate 
friend  of  Lord  Falkland.  During  the  Commonwealth 
he  was  in  Paris,  secretary  to  the  Earl  of  St.  Alban's. 
In  1656,  he  was  sent  to  England  on  a  confidential 
mission,  found  himself  in  danger,  and  thought  of  retiring 
to  America.  After  the  Restoration  he  lived  at  Chertsey. 
His  remains  lie  in  Westminster  Abbey  between  Chaucer 
and  Spenser.  As  a  poet,  his  name  does  not  by  any 
means  rank  with  theirs,  and,  indeed,  the  artificial  glitter 
of  the  style  did  more  for  a  length  of  time  to  corrupt 
than  to  enrich  the  English  tongue.  Yet  he  was  well 
worthy  of  high  honour,  as  one  who  joined  great  wit, 
learning,  and  brilliancy  to  the  virtues  and  humility  of  a 
good  Christian  man. 

Cowley  did  not  write  much  sacred  poetry  of  any 
interest,  for  his  Davideis — a  poem  in  four  books  on  the 
history  of  David — was  written  in  a  form  that  did  not 
suit  his  particular  talents,  and  is  very  uninteresting. 
But  he  had  a  full  perception  of  the  capacity  which 
sacred  subjects  have  for  poetical  treatment.  '  When  I 
consider,'  he  writes,  '  how  many  bright  and  magnificent 
subjects  the  holy  Scripture  affords  and  proffers,  as  it 
were,  to  poesy,  in  the  wise  managing  and  illustrating 
whereof  the  glory  of  God  Almighty  might  be  joined 
with  the  singular  ability  and  noblest  delight  of  man- 
kind,  it  is  not  without  grief  and   indignation  that   I 

^  J.  Quarles,  in  R.  Cattermole's  Sacred  Poetry  of  the  Seventeenth  Century^ 
vol.  ii.  p.  363. 


26o  Religious  Thought  in 

behold  that  divine  Science  employing  all  her  inexhaust- 
ible riches  of  art  and  eloquence  either  in  the  wicked  and 
beggarly  flattery  of  great  persons,  or  the  unmanly 
idolizing  of  foolish  women,  or  the  wretched  affectation 
of  scurril  laughter,  or,  at  best,  on  the  confused  anti- 
quated dreams  of  senseless  fables  and  metamorphoses.' 
It  was  time,  he  added,  to  recover  poetry  from  its  too 
general  debasement,  and  '  to  restore  it  to  the  kingdom 
of  God,  who  is  the  father  of  it'  ^ 
.  The  following  is  part  of  some  verses  on  Reason:  the 
Use  of  it  in  Divine  Matters.  He  has  been  speaking  of 
the  vain  expectation  of  visions  and  inspirations,  in  the 
hope  of  which  some  sacrifice  the  gift  of  reasoning,  and 

Like  senseless  chemists,  their  own  wealth  destroy, 
Imaginary  gold  t'  enjoy. 

Then  he  continues  : — 

In  vain,  alas  !  these  outward  hopes  are  tried  ; 

Reason  within  's  our  only  guide. 

Reason  I  which  (God  be  praised  I)  still  walks,  for  all 

Its  old  original  fall  ; 

And  since  Itself  the  boundless  Godhead  join'd 

With  a  reasonable  mind. 

It  plainly  shows  that  mysteries  divine 

May  with  our  reason  join. 

The  holy  Book,  like  the  eighth  sphere,  does  shine 

With  thousand  lights  of  truth  divine  ; 

So  numberless  the  stars,  that  to  the  eye 

It  makes  but  all  one  galaxy. 

Yet  reason  must  assist,  too,  for  in  seas, 

So  vast  and  dangerous  are  these, 

Our  course  by  stars  above  we  cannot  know 

Without  the  compass  too  below. 

Though  reason  cannot  through  faith's  mysteries  see, 

It  sees  that  these  and  such  there  be. 

Leads  to  heaven  doors,  and  there  does  humbly  keep. 

And  there  through  chinks  and  keyholes  peep  ; 

Though  it,  like  Moses,  by  a  sad  command, 

Must  not  come  into  th'  Holy  Land, 

Yet  thither  it  infallibly  does  guide. 

And  from  afar  'tis  all  descried.'-^ 

'  From  the  Preface  to  his  Works. 

-  Cowley's  Works.     Ami  arson's  English  Poets. 


Old  English  Verse  261 


Christ's  Passion. 

Enough,  my  Muse,  of  earthly  things, 
And  inspirations  but  of  wind, 
Take  up  thy  lute,  and  to  it  bind 
Loud  and  everlasting  strings  ; 
And  on  them  play,  and  to  them  sing 
The  happy  mournful  stories, 
The  lamentable  glories, 
Of  the  great  Crucified  King. 
Mountainous  heap  of  wonders  I  which  dost  rise 

Till  earth  thou  joinest  with  the  skies  I 
Too  large  at  bottom,  and  at  top  too  high, 
To  be  half  seen  by  mortal  eye. 
How  shall  I  grasp  this  boundless  thing? 
What  shall  I  play  ?     What  shall  I  sing  ? 
I  '11  sing  the  mighty  riddle  of  mysterious  love. 
Which  neither  wretched  man  below,  nor  blessed  spirits  above, 

With  all  their  comments  can  explain. 
How  all  the  Avhole  world's  Life  to  die  did  not  disdain. 

I  "11  sing  the  searchless  depths  of  the  compassion  divine, 
The  depths  unfathom'd  yet 
By  reason's  plummet,  and  the  line  of  coil  ; — 
Too  light  the  plummet,  and  too  short  the  line  ; — 
How  the  Eternal  Father  did  bestow 
His  own  Eternal  Son  as  ransom  for  His  foe. 
1  '11  sing  aloud,  that  all  aloud  may  hear 
The  triumph  of  the  buried  Conqueror. 
How  hell  was  by  its  prisoner  captive  led. 
And  the  great  slayer.  Death,  slain  by  the  dead. 

Methinks  I  hear  of  murdered  men  the  voice, 
Mixed  with  the  murderers  confused  noise, 

Sound  from  the  top  of  Calvary  : 
My  greedy  eyes  fly  up  the  hill,  and  see 
Who  'tis  hangs  there  the  midmost  of  the  three  ; — 
Oh,  how  unlike  the  others  He  1 
Look  how  He  bends  His  gentle  head  with  blessings  from  the 
tree  I 
His  gracious  hands,  ne'er  stretched  but  to  do  good, 
Are  nailed  to  th'  infamous  wood, 
And  sinful  man  does  fondly  bind 
The  arms  which  He  extends  to  embrace  all  human  kind. 

Unhappy  man  1  canst  thou  stand  by  and  see 
All  this,  as  patient  as  He  ? 
Since  He  thy  sin  does  bear, 


262  Religious  Thought  in 

Make  thou  His  sufferings  thine  own, 

And  weep,  and  sigh,  and  groan. 

And  beat  thy  breast,  and  tear 

Thy  garments  and  thy  hair. 

And  let  thy  grief,  and  let  thy  love 

Through  all  thy  bleeding  bowels  move. 
Dost  Thou  not  see  thy  Prince  in  purple  clad  all  o'er. 

Not  purple  brought  from  the  Sidonian  shore, 

But  made  at  home  with  richer  gore  ? 
Dost  thou  not  see  the  roses,  which  adorn 

The  thorny  garland,  by  Him  worn  ? 

Dost  thou  not  see  the  livid  traces 

Of  the  sharp  scourge's  rude  embraces  ? 

If  yet  thou  feelest  not  the  smart 

Of  thorns  and  scourges  in  thy  heart, 

If  that  be  yet  not  crucified. 
Look  on  His  hands,  look  on  His  feet,  look  on  His  side. 

Open,  oh  !  open  wide  the  fountains  of  thine  eyes. 
And  let  them  call 

Their  stock  of  moisture  forth  where'er  it  lies, 
For  this  will  ask  it  all. 
'Twould  all,  alas  !  too  little  be. 
Though  thy  salt  tears  came  from  a  sea  : 
Canst  thou  deny  Him  this,  when  He 
Has  opened  all  His  vital  springs  for  thee  ? 

Take  heed  !  for  by  His  side's  mysterious  flood 
May  well  be  understood. 

That  He  will  still  require  some  waters  to  His  blood. 

Edmund  Waller  (1605-87)  wrote  some  Divine  Poems 
very  near  the  close  of  a  long  life.  Possessed  of  a  large 
fortune,  related  to  Cromwell  and  Hampden  on  the  one 
side,  and  connected  with  some  noble  families  on  the 
other,  gifted  with  wit,  eloquence,  and  social  powers,  he 
might  have  occupied  a  very  prominent  position  in  the 
State.  He  had  been  chosen  a  member  of  Parliament 
in  his  eighteenth  year,  when  James  the  First  was  reign- 
ing, and  in  his  eightieth  year  was  a  member  of  the  first 
Parliament  of  James  the  Second.  Unfortunately  for 
his  fame,  his  public  career  was  marred  by  time-serving  ; 
and  though  he  maintained  a  considerable  position  under 
five  rulers,  it  was  only  by  a  pliancy  which  said  more 
for  his  address  than  for  his  principles.  It  must  be  said, 
however,  that  his  verses  were  never  stained  by  anything 


Old  English  Verse  263 

unworthy  or  corrupt.  His  regret  in  his  last  declining 
years  was,  that  he  had  not  used  his  powers  more  de- 
finitely in  the  service  of  God.  He  concludes  his  poem 
On  the  Fear  of  God : — 

Wrestling  with  death,  these  hnes  1  did  endite  ; 

No  other  theme  could  give  my  soul  delight. 

O  that  my  youth  had  thus  employed  my  pen  ! 

Or  that  I  now  could  write  as  well  as  then  ! 

But  'tis  of  grace,  if  sickness,  age,  and  pain, 

Are  felt  as  throes  when  we  are  bom  again  : 

Timely  they  come  to  wean  us  from  the  earth. 

As  pangs  that  wait  upon  a  second  birth. ^ 

The  following  are  some  fine   lines   upon  the  keener 
spiritual  insight  of  advanced  years  : — 

The  seas  are  quiet  when  the  winds  give  o'er, 
So  calm  are  we  when  passions  are  no  more  ! 
For  then  we  know  how  vain  it  was  to  boast 
Of  fleeting  things  so  certain  to  be  lost. 
Clouds  of  affection  from  our  younger  eyes 
Conceal  that  emptiness  which  age  descries. 

The  soul's  dark  cottage,  batterd  and  decayed. 
Lets  in  new  light  through  chinks  that  time  has  made  : 
Stronger  by  weakness,  wiser  men  become, 
As  they  draw  near  to  their  eternal  home. 
Leaving  the  old,  both  worlds  at  once  they  view. 
That  stand  upon  the  threshold  of  the  new. 

A    couple    of    distichs    from    his    poems    may    be 
added  : — 

A  soul  capacious  of  the  Deity 
Nothing  but  He  that  made  can  satisfy. 

— On  the  Fear  of  God. 
Love  as  He  loved  !     How  can  we  soar  so  high  ? 
He  can  add  wings,  when  He  commands  to  fly. 

— On  Divine  Love. 
A  poem  of  two  hundred  and  twenty-four  stanzas  on 
the  Day  of  Doom  was  published  in   1673  anonymously, 
but  is  now  attributed  to  a  clergyman  named  Wiggles- 
worth.     It  begins  thus  : 

Still  was  the  night,  serene  and  bright, 

When  all  men  sleeping  lay  ; 
Calm  was  the  season,  and  carnal  reason 
Thought  so  'twould  last  for  aye. 

^    Wallers  Poems.     Anderson's  English  Poets,  vol.  v. 


264  Religious  Thought  in 

Soul,  take  thine  ease,  let  sorrow  cease  ; 

Much  good  thou  hast  in  store  ; 
This  was  their  song,  their  cups  among. 

The  evening  before. 

Wallowing  in  all  kinds  of  sin, 

Vile  wretches  lay  secure  ; 
The  best  of  men  had  scarcely  then 

Their  lamps  kept  in  good  ure  [practice]. 
Virgins  unwise,  who  through  disguise, 

Among  the  best  were  numberd. 
Had  closed  their  eyes  ; — yea,  and  the  wise. 

Through  sloth  and  frailty  slumberd. 

Like  as  of  old,  when  men  grew  bold, 

God's  threat'nings  to  contemn. 
Who  stopt  their  ear,  and  would  not  hear. 

When  mercy  warne'd  them  ; 
But  took  their  course,  without  remorse, 

Till  God  began  to  pour 
Destruction  the  world  upon, 

In  a  tempestuous  shower  ; 

They  put  away  the  evil  day. 

And  still  they  drown'd  their  cares. 

Till  drown'd  were  they,  and  swept  aw  ax- 
By  vengeance  unawares  : 

So,  at  the  last,  whilst  men  sleep  fast 
In  their  security, 

Surprised  they  are  in  such  a  snare 
As  Cometh  suddenly. 

For  at  midnight  broke  forth  a  light 

Which  turn'd  the  night  to  day  : 
And  speedily  an  hideous  cry 

Did  all  the  world  dismay. 
Sinners  awake,  their  hearts  do  ache. 

Trembling  their  loins  surpriseth  ; 
Amazed  with  fear,  by  what  they  hear, 

Each  one  of  them  ariseth. 

They  rush  from  beds  with  gidd\  heads. 

And  to  their  windows  run. 
Viewing  this  light  which  shines  more  bright 

Than  doth  the  noonday  sun. 
Straightway  appears  (they  see 't  with  tears) 

The  Son  of  God  most  dread  ; 
Who  with  His  train  comes  on  amain. 

To  judge  both  Quick  and  Dead  I  ^ 

'   Cor  sen  Collectanea  Anglo- Poeiica,  v.  128. 


Old  English  Verse  265 

The  religious  verses  of  Robert  Herrick  (i  591-1674) 
are  by  no  means  wanting  in  beauty  and  interest.  Her- 
rick was  not  ordained  till  he  was  approaching  his  fortieth 
year.  He  had  gone  late  to  Cambridge,  and  after  leav- 
ing the  University,  undecided  as  yet  what  profession 
he  should  enter  upon,  had  plunged  wildly  into  all  the 
revelries  to  which  club  life  in  London  then  invited 
young  men  of  literature  and  wit.  During  the  nine 
years  thus  spent,  his  Anacreonic  effusions  were  all  of 
love  and  wine  and  gay  fancies.  Then,  at  last,  as  he 
says  in  one  of  his  poems,  'wiser  conclusions'  came  over 
him,  and  he  longed  to  '  shape  his  function  for  more 
glorious  ends.'  He  felt  that  he  must  break  off  the  self- 
indulgences  and  entanglements  of  earlier  life.  He  was 
ordained  in  1629  to  the  vicarage  of  the  little  village  of 
Dean  Prior  in  Devon.  This  rural  seclusion  seemed 
something  of  a  banishment  to  him  ;  and  by  contrast 
to  the  life  and  brightness  of  the  society  he  had  been 
used  to,  the  people  seemed  to  him 

churlish  as  the  seas, 
And  rude  (ahnost)  as  rudest  savages. ^ 

When,  being  a  thorough-going  Royalist,  he  was  ejected 
in  1647,  he  declared  himself  '  ravisht  in  spirit'  at  the 
thought  of  returning  to  London — '  blest  place  of  his 
nativitie.'  Still  his  verses  show  that  he  was  not  unable 
to  appreciate  the  tranquillities  of  a  homely  country  life. 
At  the  time  of  his  ejection,  he  thought  nothing  would 
ever  induce  him  to  return  to  it  ;  but  at  the  Restoration 
he  was  well  content  to  find  his  way  again  to  his  old 
parish,  and  he  died  there  at  the  age  of  eighty-three. 

There  had  always  been  a  vein  of  seriousness  in 
Herrick's  mirth.  The  remembrance  of  death  lurked 
amid  his  gayest  verses,  as  it  does  in  the  festive  odes  of 
Horace,  or  as  it  is  imaged  in  the  skull  that  peers  out 
amid  the  grapes  and  satyrs  of  a  Greek  flagon.  His 
entry  upon  holy  orders  inspired  him  with  many  new 
feelings  of  responsibility  and  purpose.     But  his  general 

^  Herrick's  Poems ^  ed.  by  A.  B.  Grosart.     Hesperides  'To  Dean-bourn.' 


266  Religious  Thoiight  in 

temperament  was  what  it  was  before.  There  was  the 
same  irrepressible  spirit  of  merriment,  and  of  not  too 
chastened  humour,  and  the  same  interfused  thread  of 
thoughtfulness  and  grave  reflection.  In  his  poetry  he 
had  done  with 

my  Linbaptized  rhimes,  . 
Writ  in  my  wild  unhallowed  times, 

and  was  employing  his  pen  in  what  he  has  entitled 
Noble  Numbers.  But  even  in  his  gravest  and  most 
solemn  thoughts,  he  cannot  refrain  a  jest  at  what 
strikes  his  fancy  as  humorous  even  in  the  most 
critical  circumstances  of  life.  Witness  his  Litany  when, 
in  thinking  of  the  spiritual  comfort  he  will  need  in  the 
dread  hour  of  death,  a  thought  comes  into  his  mind  of 
the  doctor  standing  helplessly  by  the  patient  whom  he 
has  given  up.  The  Litany  itself  is  a  touching  one  and 
in  part  well  known.  Among  the  verses  given  here,  I 
include  those  I  have  referred  to : — 

In  the  hour  of  my  distress. 
When  temptations  me  oppress, 
And  when  I  my  sins  confess, 
Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me. 

When  I  lie  within  my  bed, 
Sick  in  heart  and  sick  in  head. 
And  with  doubt  discomforted, 
Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me  1 

When  the  house  doth  sigh  and  weep 
And  the  world  is  drown'd  in  sleep. 
Yet  mine  eyes  the  watch  do  keep. 
Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me  I 

When  the  artless  doctor  sees 
No  more  hope,  but  of  his  fees, 
And  his  skill  runs  on  the  lees. 
Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me  ! 

When  his  potion  and  his  pill 
Has,  or  none,  or  little  skill, 
Meet  for  nothing  but  to  kill, 
Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me  I 


Old  English  Verse  267 

When  the  tapers  now  burn  bkie, 
And  the  comforters  are  few, 
And  that  number  more  than  ^  true, 
Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me  ! 

When  the  priest  his  last  hath  pray'd, 
And  I  nod  to  what  is  said, 
'Cause  my  speech  is  now  decay'd, 
Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me  ! 

When  [God  knows]  I  'm  tost  about. 
Either  with  despair  or  doubt, 
Yet  before  the  glass  be  out. 

Sweet  Spirit,  comfort  me  !  - 

The  following  verses  are  entitled  The  Goodness  of  Jiis 
Lord : — 

When  winds  and  seas  do  rage. 

And  threaten  to  undo  me. 
Thou  dost  their  wrath  assuage, 
If  I  but  call  unto  Thee. 

A  mighty  storm  last  night 

Did  seek  my  soul  to  swallow. 
But  by  the  peep  of  light 

A  gentle  calm  did  follow. 

What  need  I  then  despair. 

Though  ill. stand  round  about  me  ; 

Since  mischiefs  neither  dare 
To  bark  or  bite  without  Thee.-' 

FROM    SOME   LINES    'TO   GOD.' 

Make,  make  me  Thine,  my  gracious  God, 
Or  with  Thy  staff,  or  with  Thy  rod  ; 
And  be  the  blow  too  what  it  will. 
Lord,  I  will  kiss  it,  though  it  kill.-' 

SOME   LINES   'to   his    EVER-LOVING   GOD.' 

Can  I  not  come  to  Thee,  my  God,  for  these 

So  very-many-meeting  hindrances. 

That  slack  my  pace,  but  yet  not  make  me  stay  ? 

W^ho  slowly  goes,  rids  in  the  end  his  way. 

Clear  Thou  my  paths,  or  shorten  Thou  my  miles, 

Remove  the  bars,  or  lift  me  o'er  the  stiles  ; 

^  i.e.  more  in  number  than  true  in  friendship. 

-  Herrick's  Poems,  iii.  132.  "^  Id.  iii.   174.  ^  Id.  iii.  138. 


2  68  Religious  Thought  in 

since  rough  the  way  is,  help  me  when  I  call, 
And  take  mc  up,  or  else  prevent  the  fall, 
I  ken  my  home  ;  and  it  affords  some  ease 
To  see  far  off  the  smoking  villages. 
Fain  would  I  rest  ;  yet  covet  not  to  die 
For  fear  of  future  biting  penury  : 
No,  no,  my  God,  Thou  know'st  my  wishes  be 
To  leave  this  life,  not  loving  it,  but  Thee.' 

anothf:r. 

Thou  bidst  me  come  ;  I  cannot  come  ;  for  w  hy. 
Thou  dwell'st  aloft,  and  I  want  wings  to  fly, 
To  mount  my  soul,  she  must  have  pinions  given  ; 
For,  'tis  no  easy  way  from  earth  to  heaven. - 

HUMILITY. 

Humble  we  must  be,  if  to  Heaven  we  go, 
High  is  the  roof  there  ;  but  the  gate  is  low.-' 

My  last  quotation  shall  be  from  A  TJianksgivuig  to 
God  for  his  House  : — 

Lord,  Thou  hast  given  me  a  cell 

Wherein  to  dwell. 
A  little  house,  whose  humble  roof 

Is  weatherproof. 
Under  the  spars  of  which  I  lie 

Both  soft  and  dry  ; 
Where  Thou,  my  chamber  for  to  ward. 

Hast  set  a  guard 
Of  harmless  thoughts,  to  watch  and  keej) 

Me,  while  I  sleep. 
Low  is  my  porch,  as  is  my  fate. 

Both  void  of  state  ; 
And  yet  the  threshold  of  my  door 

Is  worn  by  th"  poor. 
Who  thither  come,  and  freely  get 

Good  words,  or  meat. 

Lord,  'tis  thy  plenty-dropping  hand 

That  soils  \c)iriches\  my  land  ; 

And  giv'st  me,  for  my  bushel  sown 
Twice  ten  for  one  ; 

Thou  mak'st  my  teeming  hen  to  lay 
Her  ^%%  each  day  ; 


^  Merrick's  roeins,  iii.  139. 

2  Id.  140.  ""  Id.    156. 


Old  English  Verse  269 

Besides  my  healthful  ewes  to  bear 

Ale  twins  each  year  : 
The  while  the  conduits  of  my  kine 

Run  cream  [for  wine] 
All  these,  and  better  thou  dost  send 

]\Ie,  to  this  end, 
That  I  should  render  for  my  part 

A  thankful  heart  ; 
Which,  fired  with  incense,  I  resign 

As  wholly  thine ; 
But  the  acceptance,  that  must  be, 

My  Christ,  by  Thee.^ 

The  family  of  John  Milton  (1608-74)  seems  to  have 
derived  its  name  from  Great  Milton  in  Oxfordshire, 
where,  until  their  lands  were  sequestered  in  the  Wars 
of  the  Roses,  his  forefathers  had  held  a  position  of  some 
standing.  His  grandfather  was  a  substantial  yeoman, 
ranger  of  the  forest  of  Shotover  ;  his  father  a  scrivener 
of  repute  who  lived  in  Cheapside  and  was  particularly 
distinguished  for  his  great  musical  talent.  The  poet 
in  his  boyhood  had  excellent  tuition  both  at  St.  Paul's 
school,  than  which  there  was  then  no  better  school  in 
England,  and  from  Thomas  Young  his  private  tutor.  He 
was  an  eager  student,  rarely,  even  at  the  age  of  twelve, 
leaving  his  books  till  midnight  or  later ;  and  when,  in 
his  seventeenth  year,  he  went  to  Christ's  College,  Cam- 
bridge, was  already  well  known  for  his  skill  in  Latin 
and  for  the  elegance  of  his  Latin  verse.  His  taste  for 
English  poetry  was  also  early  developed.^  The  versions, 
printed  in  his  works,  of  the  114th  and  136th  Psalms 
were  written  by  him  when  he  was  but  fifteen.  Of  the 
poets,  Spenser  was  his  special  favourite.  At  Cambridge 
he  spent  more  than  seven  years,  but  without  much 
satisfaction  to  himself  His  temper,  independent  to  a 
fault,  could  ill  brook  either  the  restraints  of  the  some- 
what pedagogic  discipline  which  the  great  youth  of 
many  of  the  students  doubtless  made  necessary,  or  the 
dull  scholastic  formalities  and  narrow  ecclesiasticism, 

*  Herrick's  Poems,   135. 

^  Quoted  in  Grosart's  Mem.  Introd.  to  Herruh's  Poems,  ccvi. 


2  70  Religious  Thought  in 

which  were  apt  to  encumber  the  teaching.  He  left 
Cambridge  in  1632,  resolved  at  last  not  to  take  orders 
in  the  Church  of  England,  with  no  idea  of  any  other 
profession,  but,  as  his  letters  show,  with  some  great  and 
fixed  project  in  his  mind.  It  was  at  this  time  he  wrote 
his  second  sonnet,  in  which  he  says  that  though  his 
inward  ripeness  may  seem  tardy — 

Yet  be  it  less  or  more,  or  soon  or  slow, 
It  shall  be  still  in  strictest  measure  even  ^proportional^ 

To  that  same  lot,  however  mean  or  high. 
Toward  which  Time  leads  me,  and  the  will  of  Heaven  ; 
All  is,  if  I  have  grace  to  use  it  so, 
As  ever  in  my  great  Taskmaster's  eye. 

His  father  had  now  retired  from  business  and  had 
settled  at  Horton  in  Buckinghamshire.  There  for  five 
years  in  quietness  and  study  Milton  prepared  himself, 
with  a  depth  of  purpose  which  had  in  it  something  of 
solemnity,  for  the  vocation  of  a  great  poet.  '  I  have,' 
he  wrote  in  1641,  an  '  inward  prompting  which  grows 
daily  upon  me,  that  by  labour  and  intent  study,  which 
I  take  to  be  my  portion  in  this  life,  joined  with  the 
strong  propensity  of  nature,  I  might  perhaps  leave 
something  so  written  to  after  times,  as  they  would  not 
willingly  let  it  die.'  And  after  speaking  of  the  know- 
ledge and  virtue  requisite  for  the,  writer  of  'a  true 
poem,'  he  adds  :  '  This  is  not  to  be  obtained  but  by 
devout  prayer  to  that  Eternal  Spirit  that  can  enrich 
with  all  utterance  and  knowledge,  and  sends  out  his 
Seraphim  with  the  hallowed  fire  of  His  altar,  to  touch 
and  purify  the  lives  of  those  whom  He  pleases.' 

In  1629,  while  he  was  yet  at  Cambridge,  he  had 
written  the  Ode  on  the  Nativity.  This  fine  poem  bears 
marks  of  immaturity,  of  knowledge  not  yet  fully  as- 
similated, and  of  imagination  not  yet  held  firmly  under 
constraint,  but  contains  passages  which  quite  presage 
the  grandeur  of  Paradise  Lost.  Such  are  the  words 
which  tell  of  the  general  peace  reigning  throughout  the 


Quoted  in  Mark  Pattison's  Milton^  1879,  P-  16. 


Old  English  Verse  271 

vast    Roman    Empire    at    the    time    when    Christ   was 

born — 

No  war,  or  battle's  sound 
Was  heard  the  world  around  : 

The  idle  spear  and  shield  were  high  up  hung, 
The  hooked  chariot  stood 
Unstain'd  with  hostile  blood  ; 

The  trumpet  spake  not  to  the  armed  throng. 
And  kings  sat  still  with  awful  eye, 
As  if  they  surely  knew  their  sovran  Lord  was  by. 

Or  the  hymn  of  the  angels  on  Christ's  birth  : — 

Such  music  (as  'tis  said) 
Before  was  never  made 

But  when  of  old  the  sons  of  morning  sung. 
While  the  Creator  great 
His  constellations  set, 

And  the  well-balanced  world  on  hinges  hung. 
And  cast  the  dark  foundations  deep, 
And  bid  the  welt'ring  waves  their  oozy  channel  keep. 

Ring  out,  ye  crystal  spheres. 
Once  bless  our  human  ears, 

If  ye  have  power  to  touch  our  senses  so  ; 
And  let  your  silver  chime 
Move  in  melodious  time. 

And  let  the  base  of  heaven's  deep  organ  blow  ; 
And  in  your  ninefold  harmony 
Make  up  full  consort  to  th'  angelic  symphony. 

Such  too  are  the  splendid  stanzas  which  represented 
the  pagan  deities  vanquished  and  departing  from  the 
earth,  beginning  '  The  oracles  are  dumb.' 

To  the  Horton  period  belong  L Allegro  and  // 
Penseroso,  Lycidas,  and  Comus.  There  is  nothing  as 
yet  of  the  Puritan  in  those  beautiful  and  familiar  lines 
in  II  Penseroso  (1632)  : — 

But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail 
To  walk  the  studious  cloisters  pale, 
And  love  the  high  embowed  roof. 
With  antic  pillars  massy  proof, 
And  storied  windows  richly  dight 
Casting  a  dim  religious  light ; 
There  let  the  pealing  organ  blow 
To  the  full- voiced  quire  below 


272  Religious  Thought  in 

In  service  high,  and  anthems  clear, 

As  may  with  sweetness,  through  mine  ear. 

Dissolve  me  into  ecstasies, 

And  bring  all  heaven  before  mine  eyes. 

Neither  was  Milton  a  Puritan  when  he  wrote,  in 
6)?;//! //j-  (1634),  the  last  Cavalier  mask  ;  introducing  never- 
theless, gracefully  and  without  effort,  into  the  fantastic 
pageantry  essential  to  these  shows  an  element  of 
spiritual  beauty  and  nobility  of  purpose  which  raised  it 
high  above  the  level  of  other  such  representations.  For 
example  : — 

This  I  hold  firm  ; 
\'irtue  may  be  assail'd  but  never  hurt. 
Surprised  by  unjust  force,  but  not  inthrall"d  ; 
Yea,  even  that  which  Mischief  meant  most  harm, 
Shall  in  the  happy  trial  prove  most  glory  : 
But  evil  on  itself  shall  back  recoil, 
And  mix  no  more  with  goodness,  when  at  last, 
(}ather'd  like  scum,  and  settled  to  itself, 
It  shall  be  in  eternal  restless  change 
Self-fed,  and  self-consumed  :  if  this  fail, 
The  pillar'd  firmament  is  rottenness. 
And  earth's  base  built  on  stubble.^ 

From  the  exquisite  dirge  entitled  Lycidas  (1637), 
may  be  quoted  those  lines  near  the  end  : — 

Weep  no  more,  w-oful  Shepherds,  weep  no  more, 
For  Lycidas  your  sorrow  is  not  dead. 
Sunk  though  he  be  beneath  the  watery  floor  ; 
So  sinks  the  day-star  in  the  ocean  bed, 
And  yet  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head, 
And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  new  spangled  ore 
Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky  : 
So  Lycidas  sank  low,  but  mounted  high. 
Thro'  the  dear  might  of  Him  that  walk'd  the  waves, 
Where  other  groves  and  other  streams  along, 
With  nectar  pure  his  oozy  locks  he  laves. 
And  hears  the  unexpressive  nuptial  song, 


In  a  like  spirit  are  the  concluding  lines : 

Love  Virtue,  she  alone  is  free, 
She  can  teach  ye  how  lo  climb 
Higher  tlian  the  sphery  chime  ; 
Or  if  Virtue  feeble  were. 
Heaven  itself  would  stoop  lo  her. 


Old  English  Verse  273 

In  the  blest  kingdoms  meek  of  Joy  and  Love. 
There  entertain  him  all  the  saints  above, 
In  solemn  troops  and  sweet  societies, 
That  sing,  and  singing  in  their  glory  move. 
And  wipe  the  tears  for  ever  from  his  eyes. 

In  1638  and  part  of  1639  Milton  travelled  in  Italy, 
staying  in  Paris  on  his  way,  and  in  Geneva  on  his  return. 
He  then  settled  in  London,  and  undertook  the  tuition, 
first  of  his  nephews,  and  then  of  other  pupils.  The 
stormy  years  of  fierce  civil  strife  were  very  unfavourable 
to  Milton's  genius  as  a  poet,  nor  is  there  occasion  to 
speak  here  of  the  passionate  fervour  with  which  he 
dedicated  all  his  powers  to  the  service  of  the  Republic. 
In  1648,  when  the  Puritans  were  bent  on  supplanting 
Sternhold  and  Hopkins'  Version  of  the  Psalms,  and 
again  in  1653,  Milton  attempted  the  task,  and  failed  in 
it.  In  1649  the  Parliamentary  Council  of  State,  who 
had  resolved  to  employ  the  Latin  tongue  in  their  com- 
munications with  foreign  powers,  appointed  him  their 
Secretary.  His  eyesight  was  already  getting  weak ; 
and  the  great  labour  which  this  office  involved  com- 
pleted the  mischief.  Early  in  1652,  at  the  age  of  forty- 
three,  he  was  totally  blind,  and,  though  he  continued  to 
hold  his  Secretaryship,  his  political  labours  were  very 
much  restricted.  It  was  about  this  time,  before  1658, 
that  he  wrote  the  sonnet  on  his  blindness,  touching  in 
its  manly  patience  : — 

When  I  consider  how  my  light  is  spent 

Ere  half  my  days,  in  this  dark  world  and  wide. 
And  that  one  talent  which  is  death  to  hide. 

Lodged  with  me  useless,  though  my  soul  more  bent 

To  serve  therewith  my  Maker,  and  present 
My  true  account,  lest  he  returning  chide  ; 
'  Doth  God  exact  day-labour,  light  denied  ?' 

I  fondly  ask  :  but  Patience,  to  prevent 
That  murmur,  soon  replies,  '  God  doth  not  need 

Either  man's  work  or  His  own  gifts  ;  who  best 

Bear  his  mild  yoke,  they  serve  Him  best  :   His  state 
Is  kingly  :  thousands  at  His  bidding  speed, 

And  post  o'er  land  and  ocean  without  rest  ; 
They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait. 
S 


2  74  Religious  Thought  in 

Although,  at  the  Restoration,  some  of  Milton's 
polemical  works  were  burnt  by  the  common  hangman, 
he  escaped  harsh  treatment  personally.  His  outward 
circumstances  were  now  pitiable.  He,  of  course,  lost 
his  office  ;  his  property  was  destroyed  by  confiscation 
and  other  losses.  His  political  hopes  were  utterly 
ruined.  He  had  not  even  a  party ;  for  his  determined 
independence  of  thought,  and  his  habit  of  fearlessly 
pushing  opinions  to  their  utmost  consequences,  had 
estranged  him  more  or  less  from  all  religious  and 
political  communions.  Moreover,  throughout  his  life  his 
mind  had  always  been  a  lonely  one,  dwelling  in  itself 
His  blindness  completed  the  isolation.  It  is  true  that 
his  third  wife  was  kind  and  attentive  to  his  material 
comforts  ;  but  there  does  not  seem  to  have  been  much 
further  congeniality.  It  was  in  this  solitude  that  he 
finally  worked  out  the  great  poem  which,  amid  all 
vicissitudes,  and  amid  all  other  occupations,  had  ever 
been  in  his  mind  as  the  work  he  hoped  to  achieve.  He 
had  written  a  few  lines  of  it  in  1642  ;  he  systematically 
began  it  in  1648  ;  it  was  finished  in  1663  or  rather  later; 
it  was  published  in  1667.  His  great  poem  rose  up, 
majestic  and  sublime,  amid  the  materialism  and  moral 
corruption  which  had  set  in  after  the  Restoration.^ 
Secluded  at  last  from  the  confusing  turmoil  of  civil 
strife,  the  blind  poet  turned  the  whole  powers  of  his 

^  I  must  quote  here  Ernest  Myers's  beautiful  sonnet : 
MILTON. 
He  left  the  upland  lawns  and  serene  air 

Wherefrom  his  soul  her  noble  nurture  drew, 

And  reared  his  helm  among  the  unquiet  crew 
Battling  beneath  ;  the  morning  radiance  rare 
Of  his  young  brow  amid  the  tumult  there 

Grew  dim  with  sulphurous  dust  and  sanguine  dew  ; 

Yet  through  all  soilure  they  who  marked  him  knew 
The  signs  of  his  life's  dayspring,  calm  and  fair. 

But  when  peace  came,  peace  fouler  far  than  war, 
And  mirth  more  dissonant  than  battle's  tone, 

He,  with  a  scornful  sigh  of  his  clear  soul, 

Back  to  his  mountain  clomb,  now  bleak  and  frore, 
And  with  the  awful  night  he  dwelt  alone 

In  darkness,  listening  to  the  thunder's  roll. 


Old  English  Verse  275 

inward  vision  to  those  eternal  harmonies  of  most 
divine  peace  which  man,  created  after  God's  own  image, 
might  once  more  regain,  and  which  he  had  once 
possessed — 

till  disproportioned  Sin 
Jarred  against  Nature's  chime,  and  with  harsh  din 
Broke  the  fair  music  that  all  creatures  made 
To  their  great  Lord,  whose  love  their  motion  sway'd 
In  perfect  diapason,  whilst  they  stood 
In  first  obedience,  and  their  state  of  good. 
O  may  we  soon  again  renew  that  song, 
And  keep  in  tune  with  Heaven,  till  God  ere  long 
To  His  celestial  consort  us  unite, 
To  live  with  Him,  and  sing  in  endless  morn  of  light.^ 

Notwithstanding  the  grandeur,  both  of  the  general 
conception  of  Milton's  sacred  epic,  and  of  the  manner 
in  which  it  is  worked  out,  it  must  be  said  that  it  is  not 
altogether  satisfying.  Evil  in  the  world,  and  the  hope 
of  restitution  from  it,  is  indeed  a  subject  of  the  very 
deepest  interest.  But  Paradise  Lost  is,  perhaps  un- 
avoidably, too  far  away,  too  remote  from  this  present 
world,  greatly  to  touch  the  heart.  It  will  never  cease  to 
be  read,  and,  having  been  read,  to  be  well  remembered, 
and  to  leave  its  mark  upon  the  mind  of  the  reader  ;  and 
in  no  poem — unless  it  be  in  some  parts  of  the  Hebrew 
Scriptures,  or  in  some  passages  of  ^schylus — will  he 
find  more  noble  imagery,  or  a  more  majestic  flow  of 
rhythm.  But  neither  as  a  great  epic,  nor  as  a  great 
religious  poem,  has  it  much  moving  power.  In  one 
respect,  its  grandeur  does  certainly  appeal  directly  to 
our  own  consciousness.  It  inspires  and  quickens  a 
sense  of  mighty  powers  of  good  and  evil  environing 
human  life.  This  impression  would  be  far  deeper  still, 
if  it  were  not  that  the  poet  carries  on  his  story  with  a 
clear  precision  of,  so  to  say,  historical  detail,  which  goes 
far  to  dissipate  the  dim  mysterious  outlines  which  stir 
imagination  on  its  spiritual  side.  Milton's  poem  would 
be  an  intensely  interesting  one,  if  only  we  could  forget 
— as  some  have  seemed  to  forget — that  it  is  not  very 

^  Milton's  lines  :  At  a  Solemn  Music. 


276  Religious  Thought  in 

realities,  but  the  inventions  of  the  poet,  which  are  before 
us  in  all  their  circumstances.  Invention  having  so  great 
a  part  in  the  poem,  there  is,  in  spite  of  its  sublimity, 
something  of  delusion  and  disappointment  in  it.  Sin 
and  death,  and  all  our  woes,  their  entry  into  the  world, 
and  our  redemption  from  them — the  most  tremendous 
realities  of  our  existence — these  are  the  solemn  themes 
for  which,  in  exalted  words,  he  invokes  the  Holy  Spirit's 
aid.  They  are  questions  too  momentous  to  be  dealt 
with  quite  successfully,  even  by  the  greatest  and  most 
earnest  of  poets,  as  materials  upon  which  to  rear  up  the 
stately  but  fictitious  fabric  of  an  imaginative  epic.  The 
epic  seems  best  adapted  to  what  lies  on  the  borderland  of 
history,  where  truth  and  fiction  may  freely  blend,  Europe 
before  Milton's  time  had  had  enough,  and  far  more  than 
enough  of  allegory  in  its  poetical  literature  ;  yet  it  may, 
perhaps,  be  doubted  whether  the  splendid  imagery  with 
which  the  genius  of  Milton  has  adorned  Paradise  Lost, 
might  not  have  shone  to  yet  greater  advantage  if  the 
awful  powers  of  sin  had  been  clothed  in  a  more  con- 
fessedly imaginative  form.  As  it  is,  many  of  the 
sublimest  parts  of  the  narrative  are  those  which  are 
least  determinate  in  idea,  and  most  suggestive  to  the 
imagination.  Such  are  those  passages  where  the  form 
of  the  ruined  archangel  is  dimly  outlined  in  words 
which  simply  give  by  metaphor  or  otherwise  a  general 
idea  of  a  dark,  ominous  being,  colossal,  terrible,  and 
portentous : — 

Forthwith  upright  he  rears  from  off  the  pool 

His  mighty  stature  ;  on  each  hand  the  flames 

Uriv'n  backward  slope  their  pointing  spires,  and,  roll'd 

In  billows,  leave  i'  th'  midst  a  horrid  vale. 

Then  with  expanded  wings  he  steers  his  flight 

Aloft,  incumbent  on  the  dusky  air 

That  felt  unusual  weight. 

And  such  appeared  in  hue,  as  when  the  force 
Of  subterranean  wind  transports  a  hill 
Torn  from  Pelorus,  or  the  shatter'd  side 
Of  thundering  ^Etna.^ 

^  Paradise  Lost,  i.  221-32.     Cf.  also  iv.  987. 


Old  English  Verse  ^77 

Or  again  : — 

So  spake  the  grisly  terror,  and  in  shape, 
So  speaking,  and  so  threatening,  grew  tenfold 
More  dreadful  and  deform  :  on  th'  other  side 
Incensed  with  indignation,  Satan  stood 
Unterrify'd,  and  Hke  a  comet  burn'd, 
That  fires  the  length  of  Ophiuchus  huge 
In  th'  arctic  sky,  and  from  his  horrid  hair 
Shakes  pestilence  and  war.     Each  at  the  head 
Levell'd  his  deadly  aim  ;  their  fatal  hands 
No  second  stroke  intend,  and  such  a  frown 
Each  cast  at  th'  other,  as  when  two  black  clouds, 
With  Heaven's  artillery  fraught,  come  rattling  on 
Over  the  Caspian  ;  then  stand  front  to  front 
Hov'ring  a  space,  till  winds  the  signal  blow 
To  join  their  dark  encounter  in  mid  air.^ 

Of  a  somewhat  similar  kind  is  that  passage  where 
the  gates  of  death  open  out  on  the  unimaginable  abyss 
of  night  and  chaos  : — 

On  a  sudden  open  fly 
With  impetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sound 
Th'  infernal  doors,  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thunder,  that  the  lowest  bottom  shook 
Of  Erebus.     She  open'd  ;  but  to  shut 
Excell'd  her  power  ;  the  gates  wide  open  stood, 
That  with  extended  wings  a  banner'd  host 
Under  spread  ensigns  marching  might  pass  through 
With  horse  and  chariots  rank'd  in  loose  array  ; 
So  wide  they  stood,  and  like  a  furnace  mouth 
Cast  forth  redounding  smoke  and  ruddy  flame. 
Before  their  eyes  in  sudden  view  appear 
The  secrets  of  the  hoary  deep,  a  dark 
Illimitable  ocean,  without  bound. 

Without  dimension,  where  length,  breadth,  and  height, 
And  time,  and  place  are  lost ;  where  eldest  Night 
And  Chaos,  ancestors  of  nature,  hold 
Eternal  anarchy,  amidst  the  noise 
Of  endless  wars,  and  by  confusion  stand. ^ 

SubHmity  is,  of  course,  only  one  element  in  Milton's 
poetical  genius,  although  a  very  characteristic  one,  so 
much  so,  that  one  could  not  with  any  fitness  speak  of 
Paradise  Lost  and  quote  from  it  only  some  passages  of 
tranquil  religious  beauty.     But  if  in  a  work  on  sacred 

^  Paradise  Lost,  ii.  704-15.  "^  Id.  ii.  880-97. 


278  Religious  Thought  in 

poetry  I  could  only  make  one  quotation  from  Milton's 
poems,  it  should  be  that  exquisite  hymn  of  our  first 
parents  in  Paradise,  beginning  :  '  These  are  Thy  glorious 
works,  Parent  of  Good,'  ^  that  noble  anthem  of  a  nature 
yet  unstained  by  sin.  Or  else  I  would  select  from  the 
end  of  the  fifth  and  the  beginning  of  the  sixth  books 
those  lines  full  of  stimulative  religious  force  which  tell 
of  Abdiel,  true  to  his  loyalty  amid  all  the  hosts  of  the 
rebel  angels  : — 

So  spake  the  seraph  Abdiel,  faithful  found. 
Among  the  faithless,  faithful  only  he  ; 
Among  innumerable  false,  unmoved, 
Unshaken,  unseduced,  unterrify'd. 
His  loyalty  he  kept,  his  love,  his  zeal  ; 
Nor  number,  nor  example,  with  him  wrought 
To  swerve  from  truth,  or  change  his  constant  mind 
Though  single.     From  amidst  them  forth  he  pass'd 
Long  way  through  hostile  scorn,  which  he  sustain'd 
Superior,  nor  of  violence  fear'd  aught. 

On  to  the  sacred  hill 
They  led  him,  high  applauded,  and  present 
Before  the  seat  supreme  ;  from  whence  a  voice 
From  midst  a  golden  cloud  thus  mild  was  heard  : 

Servant  of  God,  well  done  1  well  hast  thou  fought 
The  better  fight,  who  single  hast  maintain'd 
Against  revolted  multitudes  the  cause 
Of  truth,  in  word  mightier  than  they  in  arms  ; 
And  for  the  testimony  of  truth  hast  borne 
Universal  reproach  (far  worse  to  bear 
Than  violence)  ;  for  this  was  all  thy  care 
To  stand  approved  in  sight  of  God,  though  worlds 
Judged  thee  perverse.^ 

There  is  much  majestic  pathos  in  the  teachings  of 
repentance  and  renewed  life  contained  in  the  eleventh 
book  and  that  passage  in  the  twelfth,  bright  with  the 
subdued  radiance  of  such  goodness  and  happiness  as  is 
still  attainable  on  earth,  which  begins,  *  Henceforth  I 
learn  that  to  obey  is  best,'  and  concludes  : — 

Only  add 
Deeds  to  thy  knowledge  answerable  ;  add  faith. 
Add  virtue,  patience,  temperance,  add  love, 

1  Paradise  Lost,  v.  153.  '^  7^.  v.  896-905,  vi.  25-37. 


Old  English  Verse  279 

By  name  to  come  call"d  Charity,  the  soul 
Of  all  the  rest  ;  then  wilt  thou  not  be  loath 
To  leave  this  Paradise,  but  shalt  possess 
A  Paradise  within  thee,  happier  far. 

It  has  been  said  of  Paradise  Regained  (1671)  that 
'  it  is  probably  the  most  unadorned  poem  extant  in  any 
language.'  The  imaginative  expansion  in  Milton's 
thought  of  the  brief  scriptural  record  of  Christ's  tempta- 
tion could  not  fail  to  have  an  interest.  But  poetry  can- 
not dispense  with  its  natural  grace  of  ornament ;  and 
therefore  even  Milton's  genius  could  not  redeem  this 
austere  poem  from  frigidity  and  even  flatness. 

Samson  Agonistes  was  published  the  same  year.  In 
style  and  outward  form  it  is  too  much  of  a  scholastic 
composition,  but  inwardly  is  full  of  suppressed  force, 
and  instinct  with  the  thoughts  which  swelled  in  Milton's 
breast.  Apart  from  this,  its  most  striking  feature  is 
the  wonderful  manner  in  which  the  spirit  of  the  Greek 
drama  is  incorporated  with  the  intenser  religious  feeling 
of  the  Hebrews,  while  both  alike  are  combined  with 
the  sentiment  of  the  English  Puritan,  and  with  the 
poet's  own  personality.  It  may  be  added  that  there 
are  passages  in  it  which  strongly  call  to  mind  our 
earliest  religious  poetry  of  the  period  before  the  Con- 
quest. The  forty  or  fifty  lines  beginning :  '  God  of  our 
fathers,  what  is  man  ? '  are  singularly  like  some  of  the 
poetry  ascribed  to  Cynewulf  Perhaps,  however,  the 
passage  which  most  of  all  blends  reminiscences  of  the 
Hebrew,  the  Greek,  and  the  Anglo-Saxon  poetry  with 
sympathetic  feeling  for  the  Puritan  poet  himself,  now 
in  his  old  age,  blind,  saddened,  and  patient,  and  brave 
in  a  devout  trust  in  the  all-ruling  providence  of  God,  is 
the  following  passage  : — 

Chorus — Oh,  how  comely  it  is,  and  how  reviving 
To  the  spirits  of  just  men  long  oppress'd, 
When  God  into  the  hands  of  their  deliverer 
Puts  invincible  might 

To  quell  the  mighty  of  the  earth,  th'  oppressor, 
The  brute  and  boisterous  force  of  violent  men 
Hardy  and  industrious  to  support  ' 


2  8o  Religious  Thought  in 

Tyrannic  power,  but  raging  to  pursue 

The  righteous  and  all  such  as  honour  truth  ; 

He  all  their  ammunition 

And  feats  of  war  defeats, 

With  plain  heroic  magnitude  of  mind 

And  celestial  vigour  arm'd  ; 

Their  armories  and  magazines  contemns, 

Renders  them  useless,  while 

With  winged  expedition, 

Swift  as  the  lighting  glance  he  executes 

His  errand  on  the  wicked,  who  surprised 

Lose  their  defence  distracted  and  amazed. 

But  patience  is  more  oft  the  exercise 
Of  saints,  the  trial  of  their  fortitude, 
Making  them  each  his  own  deliverer, 
And  victor  over  all 
That  Tyranny  or  Fortune  can  inflict. 
Either  of  these  is  in  thy  lot, 
Samson,  with  might  endued 
Above  the  sons  of  men  ;  but  sight  bereaved 
May  chance  to  number  thee  with  those 
Whom  patience  finally  must  crown. ^ 

I  give  for  a  last  extract  from  Milton  some  lines  which 
may  not  be  so  well  known  as  most  that  he  wrote, 
though  they  are  among  his  miscellaneous  poems.  They 
were  found  among  Milton's  MSS.,  with  the  inscription  in 
his  own  hand,  '  On  Time  :  to  be  set  on  a  clock-case.' 

Fly,  envious  Time,  till  thou  run  out  thy  race, 

Call  on  the  lazy,  leaden-stepping  hours. 

Whose  speed  is  but  the  heavy  plummet's  pace  ; 

And  glut  thyself  with  what  thy  womb  devours, 

Which  is  no  more  than  what  is  false  and  vain, 

And  merely  mortal  dross  ; 

So  little  is  our  loss. 

So  little  is  thy  gain. 

For  when" as  each  thing  bad  thou  hast  entomb'd, 

And  last  of  all  thy  greedy  self  consumed, 

Then  long  eternity  shall  greet  our  bliss 

With  an  individual  kiss  ; 

And  joy  shall  overtake  us  as  a  flood. 

When  every  thing  that  is  sincerely  good 

And  perfectly  divine, 

With  truth  and  peace  and  love  shall  e\er  shine 

c  ^  Samson  Agouistes,  1267-96. 


Old  English  Verse  281 

About  the  supreme  throne 

Of  Him,  to  Whose  happy-making  sight  alone 

When  once  our  heavenly-guided  soul  shall  climb, 

Then,  all  this  earthly  grossness  quit. 

Attired  with  stars,  we  shall  for  ever  sit 

Triumphing  over  Death  and  Chance,  and  thee,  O  Time. 

Andrew  Marvell  (1620-78),  a  strong  Puritan  and 
wholly  fearless  and  incorruptible  in  opposition  to  en- 
croachments on  civil  or  religious  liberty,  and  keen  in 
lashing  vice  in  high  places,  but  quite  alive  also  to  wit 
and  humour  and  to  fine  and  delicate  sentiment,  has  left, 
among  his  numerous  satirical  verses,  a  few  religious 
poems  so  good  that  we  may  regret  that  he  did  not  write 
more.  He  was  the  son  of  a  clergyman  of  the  English 
Church  ;  sat  in  Parliament  for  several  years  before  his 
death  as  member  for  Hull  ;  was  a  friend  and  admirer  of 
Milton,  whom  he  appears  to  have  first  met  while  he  was 
travelling  in  France  and  Italy,  and  when  Milton  was  be- 
coming blind  held  under  him  the  appointment  of  Assist- 
ant Latin  Secretary  to  the  Parliament  of  the  Protectorate. 

Of  his  poems,  that  which  is  now  most  known,  or 
known  next  best  to  his  ode  on  Milton,  in  the  Pilgrim  s 
Song,  of  which  the  opening  lines  are : — 

Where  the  remote  Bermudas  ride 
In  th'  ocean's  bosom  unespied. 
From  a  small  boat  that  row'd  along 
The  lisfning  winds  received  this  song  : 

'  What  should  we  do  but  sing  His  praise 
That  led  us  through  the  watery  maze 
Unto  an  isle  so  long  unknown. 
And  yet  far  kinder  than  our  own.'^ 

The  following  is  entitled  A  Drop  of  Dew : — 
See,  how  the  Orient  dew, 
Shed  from  the  bosom  of  the  morn 
Into  the  blowing  roses, 
Yet,  careless  of  its  mansion  new. 
For  the  clear  region  where  'twas  born, 

Round  in  itself  incloses  ;  { '■'■  ^^^^Jl"^^ 

And  in  its  little  globe's  extent 
Frames,  as  it  can,  its  native  element. 

^    T/ie  IVorks  of  Andrew  Marvell  {ed.  Thompson),  iii.  228. 


282  Religious  Thought  in 

How  it  the  piiiple  flower  does  slight, 

Scarce  touching  where  it  Has  ; 
But,  gazing  back  upon  the  skies, 
Shines  with  a  mournful  light. 
Like  its  own  tear, 
Because  so  long  divided  from  the  sphere  ! 
Restless  it  rolls,  and  unsecure, 

Trembling  lest  it  grow  impure, 
Till  the  warm  sun  pities  its  pain. 
And  to  the  sky  exhales  it  back  again. 

So  the  soul,  that  drop,  that  ray, 
Of  the  clear  fountain  of  th'  eternal  day, 
Could  it  within  the  human  flower  be  seen, 
Remembering  still  its  former  height. 
Shuns  the  sweet  leaves  and  blossoms  green, 
And,  recollecting  its  own  light, 
Does,  in  its  pure  and  circling  thoughts,  express 
The  greater  heaven  in  an  heaven  less. 

The  following  has  been  ascribed,  though  without 
certainty,  to  Dr.  Nicholas  Postgate,  a  Roman  Catholic 
missioner,  who  was  executed  at  the  age  of  eighty-two, 
in  1679,  the  time  of  the  Oates'  plot  panic.  I  take  it 
from  Palgrave's  Treasury  of  Sacred  Song : — 

O   THAT    I    HAD   WiNGS   LIKE  A    DOVE. 

O  gracious  God,  O  .Saviour  sweet, 

0  Jesus,  think  on  me, 

And  suffer  me  to  kiss  Thy  feet. 
Though  late  I  come  to  Thee. 

lichold,  dear  Lord,  I  come  to  Thee 

With  sorrow  and  with  shame, 
For  when  Thy  bitter  wounds  I  see, 

1  know  I  caused  the  same. 

Sweet  Jesu,  who  shall  lend  me  wings 

Of  peace  and  perfect  love, 
That  I  may  rise  from  earthly  things 

To  rest  with  Thee  above  ? 

For  sin  and  sorrow  overflow 

All  earthly  things  so  high, 
That  I  can  find  no  rest  below, 

But  unto  Thee  I  fly. 

^   Works  of  May-veil,  i,o%. 


Old  English  Verse  283 

Wherefore  my  soul  doth  loathe  the  things 

Which  gave  it  once  delight, 
And  unto  Thee,  the  King  of  kings, 

Would  mount  with  all  her  might. 

And  yet  the  weight  of  flesh  and  blood 

Doth  so  my  wings  restrain, 
That  oft  I  strive,  and  gain  no  good. 

But  rise  to  fall  again. 

Yet,  when  this  fleshly  misery 

Is  master'd  by  the  mind, 
I  cry,  '  Avaunt,  O  vanity  ! ' 

And  '  Satan,  stand  behind.' 

So  thus,  sweet  Lord,  I  fly  about 

In  weak  and  weary  ease, 
Like  the  lone  Dove  which  Noah  sent  out, 

And  found  no  resting  place. 

My  weary  wings,  sweet  Jesu,  mark, 

And,  when  Thou  thinkest  best. 
Stretch  forth  Thy  arm  from  out  the  ark. 

And  take  me  to  Thy  rest.^ 

Sir  Thomas  Browne  (1605-82),  after  an  education  at 
Winchester  and  Pembroke  College,  studied  medicine  at 
Montpellier  and  Padua,  was  created  Doctor  of  Medicine 
at  Leyden,  gained  a  high  medical  reputation,  and  was 
knighted  by  Charles  II.  His  Religio  Medici  was  pub- 
lished in  1634,  the  year  after  his  arrival  in  London  from 
Holland.  In  the  second  part  of  this  work,  his  subject 
leads  him  to  speak  of  sleep.  He  held  that  sleep  was, 
in  some  respects,  a  higher  condition  of  existence  than 
waking  life.  '  We  are  somewhat  more  than  ourselves 
in  our  sleeps,  and  the  slumber  of  the  body  seems  to  be 
but  the  waking  of  the  soul.  It  is  the  ligation  of  sense, 
but  the  liberty  of  reason,  and  our  waking  conceptions 
do  not  match  the  fancies  of  our  sleeps.'  He  goes  on 
to  say  that,  with  himself,  he  often  found  that  reason, 
devotion,  and  imagination  were  more  active  in  his 
dreams  than  at  any  other  time.  Then,  again,  its  like- 
ness to  death  added  to  its  solemnity.  *  In  fine,  I  dare 
not  trust  it  without  my  prayers,  and  a  half  adieu  unto 

^  Palgrave's  Treasury  of  Sacred  Song,  15. 


284  Religious  Thought  in 

the  world,  and   take   my  farewell   in   a  colloquy  with 
God; 

The  night  is  come,  Hke  to  the  day ; 
Depart  not  Thou,  great  God,  away. 
Let  not  my  sins,  black  as  the  night, 
Eclipse  the  lustre  of  Thy  light. 

Thou,  whose  nature  cannot  sleep, 
On  my  temples  sentry  keep  ; 
Guard  me  'gainst  those  watchful  foes 
Whose  eyes  are  open  while  mine  close. 
Let  no  dreams  my  head  infest. 
But  such  as  Jacob's  temples  blest. 
While  I  do  rest,  my  soul  advance, 
Make  my  sleep  a  holy  trance  ; 
That  I  may,  my  rest  being  wrought, 
Awake  into  some  holy  thought  ; 
And  with  an  active  vigour  run 
My  course,  as  doth  the  nimble  sun. 
Sleep  is  a  death  :  O  make  me  try, 
By  sleeping,  what  it  is  to  die  ; 
And  as  gently  lay  my  head 
On  my  grave,  as  now  my  bed. 
Howe'er  I  rest,  great  God,  let  me 
Awake  again  at  least  with  Thee. 
And  thus  assured,  behold  I  lie 
Securely,  or  to  awake  or  die. 
These  are  my  drowsy  days  ;  in  \ain 
I  do  now  wake  to  sleep  again  : 
O  come  that  hour,  when  I  shall  never 
Sleep  again,  but  wake  for  ever. 

'  This  (he  continues)  is  the  dormitive  I  take  to  bed 
ward  ;  I  need  no  other  laudanum  than  this  to  make  me 
sleep  :  after  which,  I  close  mine  eyes  in  security,  content 
so  to  take  my  leave  of  the  sun,  and  to  sleep  unto  the 
resurrection.'  ^ 

Samuel  Grossman  (1624-83),  Prebendary  of  Bristol, 
wrote  a  little  book  of  nine  poems  entitled  The  Youug 
Man's  Meditations.  Lord  Selborne,  at  the  York  Con- 
ference in  1866,  called  attention  to  one  of  these  hymns 


'  Sir  T.  Browne's  Religio  Medici,  Pt.  11.,  ed.  by  J.  A.  St.  John,  18^8, 
pp.  140-2. 


Old  English  Vei^se  285 

beginning,  '  Sweet  place,  sweet  place  above  ! '  ^  and  the 
verses  of  it  beginning  '  Jerusalem  on  high,'  ^  are  now 
very  well  known.  Sir  R.  Palmer,  in  his  Book  of  Praise, 
also  gives  another,  '  My  life 's  a  shade.'  ^ 

The  following  are  a  few  lines  from  a  poem  on  St. 
Magdalene,  from  A  Small  Garland  of  Poems  and  Godly 
Songs,  1684,  written  by  an  English  Roman  Catholic 
who  had  taken  refuge  in  Ghent.  These  religious  verses 
were  all  adapted  to  the  tunes  of  popular  ballads. 

She  doth  esteem  no  greater  bliss, 

No  joy  to  be  more  sweet, 
Than  with  her  tears  to  wash  and  kiss, 

To  wipe  and  dry  His  feet. 

With  love  and  fear  she  did  draw  near. 

Not  willing  to  be  seen  ; 
She  wash'd  His  feet  most  pure  and  clear, 

And  He  her  soul  made  clean.* 

Among  the  scholars  and  divines  of  England  in  the 
seventeenth  century  few  were  more  noteworthy  and 
admirable  than  Henry  More  (1614-87),  the  leader,  as 
he  may  not  improperly  be  called,  of  that  eminent  group 
of  Christian  Platonists  which  included  Cudworth,  John 
Smith,  Norris,  and  others.  He  was  the  son  of  a  well- 
to-do  Grantham  gentleman,  of  very  pronounced  pre- 
destinarian  opinions.  More  tells  us  that  while  he  was 
yet  a  boy  at  Eton,  these  doctrines,  instilled  into  him  by 
a  father  whom  he  greatly  loved  and  venerated,  sorely 
exercised  his  mind,  and  that  he  would  constantly,  as  he 
paced  the  play-field,  muse  within  himself  how  such 
things  could  be  consistent  with  the  justice  and  goodness 
of  God.^  From  Eton  he  went  to  Christ's  College,  Cam- 
bridge, where  he  was  contemporary  with  Milton.  There 
he  remained  for  the  rest  of  a  long  life  as  Fellow  and 
Tutor,  tranquil  and  undisturbed  through  all  the  com- 

^  Sir  R.  Palmer's  Book  of  Praise,  cix. 

^  Hytmis  Ancient  and  Modern,  233  ;  Church  Hymns,  394. 

^  Book  of  Praise,  cliii. 

•*  Corser's  Collectanea  Anglo- Poetica,  vi.  414. 

^  See  Grosart's  ed.  of  More's  Poems.     Memorial  Inlroduclion,  xiii. 


2  86  Religious  Thought  in 

motion  of  the  civil  war.  His  seclusion  lessened  in  some 
respects  his  influence ;  but  in  the  Universities  great 
numbers  of  friends  and  pupils  hung  with  admiration 
on  his  words,  and  owed  much  to  him  both  spiritually 
and  intellectually.  Never  was  a  man  more  thoroughly 
devoted  to  what  was  good  and  pure  and  true,  more 
intensely  earnest  to  shun  all  that  was  sinful  and  '  to 
preserve  his  body  as  a  well-strung  instrument  to  his 
soul'  His  rich  imagination  and  profound  learning 
glowed  with  the  fire  of  a  spiritual  enthusiasm,  so  that 
what  he  wrote,  though  often  rather  phantastic  and  un- 
intelligible, is  often  a  most  attractive  and  inspiriting 
combination  of  mystic  fervour  and  philosophic  thought. 
His  ideas  of  Divine  Nature  were  always  elevated  ;  his 
idea  of  the  human  capacity  high  and  ennobling.  His 
poetry  is  not  equal  to  his  prose,  and  not  so  poetical ; 
the  form  of  his  philosophical  verse  being,  as  a  rule, 
somewhat  prosaic,  and  disfigured  by  awkward  words, 
while  its  spirit  is  rather  frittered  away  by  allegory.  But 
a  high  and  earnest  purpose  is  ever  apparent  in  it.  His 
principal  philosophical  poem  is  the  Song  of  the  Soul,  in 
which  he  treats  of  its  life,  of  its  immortality,  of  its  pre- 
existence,  of  the  infinity  of  worlds,  and  so  forth.  The 
following  are  stanzas  from  it : — 

Of  the  power  of  the  Spirit  of  Love : — 

Even  so  the  weaker  mind,  that  languid  hes 
Knit  up  in  cage  of  dirt — dark,  cold,  and  blind — 
So  soon  that  purer  flame  of  Love  unties 
Her  clogging  chains,  and  doth  her  spright  unbind, 
She  soars  aloft,  for  she  herself  doth  find 
Well  plumed  ;  so  raised  upon  her  spreaden  wing. 
She  softly  plays,  and  warbles  in  the  wind, 
And  carols  out  her  inward  life  and  spring 
Of  overflowing  joy,  and  of  pure  love  doth  sing.^ 

Of  True  Piety  : — 

Ikit  true  Religion  sprung  from  God  above. 
Is,  like  her  fountain,  full  of  Charity, 
Embracing  all  things  with  a  tender  love. 
Full  of  goodwill  and  meek  expectancy, 

^  Grosart's  ed.  oi  Move's  Poems,  Psychaihanasia,  Bk.  i.  cant.  i.  3. 


Old  English  Verse  287 

Full  of  true  justice  and  sure  verity, 
In  heart  and  voice  :  free,  large,  even  infinite, 
Not  wedged  in  strait  particularity, 
But  grasping  all  in  her  vast  active  spright ; 
Bright  lamp  of  God  !    That  men  would  joy  in  thy  pure  light !  ^ 

From  'The  Philosopher's  Devotion';  after  lines  on  the 
goodness  and  ivisdom  and  strength  of  God: — 

Now  myself  I  do  resign, 
Take  me  whole,  I  all  am  Thine, 
Save  me,  God  1  from  self-desire. 
Death's  pit,  dark  hell's  raging  fire. 
Envy,  hatred,  vengeance,  ire  : 
Let  not  lust  my  soul  bemire  I 

Quit  from  these,  Thy  praise  I  '11  sing. 
Loudly  sweep  the  trembling  string. 
Bear  a  part,  O  Wisdom's  sons  I 
Free'd  from  vain  religions. 
Lo  !  from  far  I  you  salute, 
vSweetly  warbling  on  my  lute, — 
India,  Egypt,  Araby, 
Asia,  Greece,  and  Tartary, 
Carmel  tracts  and  Lebanon, 
With  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon, 
From  whence  muddy  Nile  doth  run. 
Or  wherever  else  you  wone  ;  [dwell] 
Breathing  in  one  vital  air. 
One  we  are,  though  distant  far. 

Rise,  at  once  let 's  sacrifice  ! 
Odours  sweet  perfume  the  skies. 
See,  how  heavenly  lightning  fires 
Hearts  enflamed  with  high  aspires  I 
All  the  substance  of  our  souls 
Up  in  clouds  of  incense  rolls.^ 

A  translation  of  the  Dies  IrcB  by  the  Earl  of  Ros- 
common (1633-84)  is  not  wanting  in  pathetic  force. 
The  two  closing  lines  of  those  quoted  below  were  his 
own  last  utterance  before  he  died  : — 

VIII. 

Thou  mighty,  formidable  King, 
Thou  mercy's  unexhausted  spring. 
Some  comfortable  pity  bring  ! 

^  Grosart's  ed.  oi  More' s  Poe?)is,  Psychathanasia,  Bk.  ii.  cant.  ii.  6. 
2  Id.  181. 


288  Religious  Thought  in 


IX. 


Forget  not  what  my  ransom  cost, 
Nor  let  my  dear-bought  soul  be  lost, 
In  storms  of  guilty  terror  tost. 


Thou  Who  for  me  didst  feel  such  pain, 
Whose  precious  blood  the  Cross  did  stain. 
Let  not  those  agonies  be  vain. 

XI. 

Thou  Whom  avenging  powers  obey, 
Cancel  my  debt — too  great  to  pay — 
Before  the  sad  accounting  day. 

XII. 

Surrounded  by  amazing  fears, 

WTiose  load  my  soul  with  anguish  bears, 

I  sigh,  I  weep  :  accept  my  tears. 

XIII. 

Thou  W^ho  wert  mov'd  with  Mary's  grief, 
And,  by  absolving  of  the  thief. 
Hast  given  me  hope,  now  give  relief. 

XIV. 

Prostrate,  my  contrite  heart  I  rend. 
My  God,  my  Father,  and  my  Friend, 
Do  not  forsake  me  in  the  end  1  ^ 

Roscommon's  paraphrase  of  the  148th  Psalm  is  not 
very  successful. 

Theophilus  Dorrington,  Rector  of  Wittersham,  pub- 
lished his  Devotions  in  Psalms  and  Hymns  in  1687. 
His  verses  are  exclusively  adapted  from  the  Psalms, 
but  are  applied  to  the  most  various  occasions  of  Hfe. 
Thus,  in  addition  to  Church  festivals,  and  State  days 
of  thanksgiving,  etc.,  he  has  written  others  for  recovery 
from  sickness,  for  restoration  from  intemperance,  the 
soldier's  thanksgiving,  the  traveller's  thanksgiving,  the 
thanksgiving  of  the  released  prisoner.  There  are  sea- 
man's and  husbandman's  hymns,  for  young  men,  for 
old   men,  for  priests,  and  so  forth.     There  are  short 

^  Anderson's  English  Poets,  vol.  vi. 


Old  English  Verse  289 

hymns  to  be  used  when  washing,  when  dressing,  at 
going  out,  at  entering  into  company,  on  looking  at  a 
sun-dial,  on  gazing  at  a  prospect,  and  many  other  mis- 
cellaneous occasions.  The  following  verses  are  intended 
to  come  into  the  memory  '  when  light  is  brought  into 
a  room  '  : — 

Enlighten,  Lord,  my  eyes  and  mind. 

That  so  I  may  discern 
The  wondrous  things  which  they  behold 

Who  Thy  just  precepts  learn. 

Thy  word  is  to  my  feet  a  lamp. 

The  way  of  truth  to  show  ; 
A  watch-light  to  point  out  the  path 

In  which  I  ought  to  go. 

On  me,  devoted  to  Thy  fear, 

Lord,  make  Thy  face  to  shine  ; 
Thy  statutes  both  to  know  and  keep 

My  heart  with  zeal  incline. ^ 

Charles  Cotton  (1630-87),  succeeded  to  an  encumbered 
family  estate  in  Staffordshire.  He  went  to  Cambridge, 
and  afterwards  travelled  abroad.  In  1670  he  went  with 
a  captain's  commission  to  Ireland.  Literature,  how- 
ever, was  his  chief  employment,  and  angling,  which 
brought  him  into  intimacy  with  Izaak  Walton,  his  chief 
recreation.  The  following  is  from  a  Christmas  Day 
hymn  : — 

Rise,  shepherds,  leave  your  flocks,  and  run  ; 
The  soul's  great  Shepherd  now  is  come  I 
Oh  I  wing  your  tardy  feet,  and  fly 
To  greet  this  dawning  majesty  ; 

Heaven's  messenger,  in  tidings  bless'd. 
Invites  you  to  the  sacred  place. 

Where  the  blessed  Babe  of  joy 
Wrapp'd  in  His  holy  Father's  grace 
Comes  the  serpent  to  destroy 
That  lurks  in  every  human  breast. 
To  Judah's  Bethlehem  turn  your  feet, 
There  you  shall  salvation  meet. 


Theophilus  Dorrington's  Devotions,  etc.,  1707,  p.  15. 
T 


290  Religious  Thought  in 

Let  each  religious  soul  then  rise 
To  offer  up  a  sacrifice, 
And  on  the  wings  of  prayer  and  praise 
His  grateful  heart  to  heaven  raise  ; 
For  this,  that  in  a  stable  lies. 
This  poor  neglected  Babe,  is  He 

Hell  and  death  that  must  control, 
And  speak  the  blessed  word,  '  Be  free," 
To  every  true  believing  soul. 
Death  has  no  sting,  nor  Hell  no  prize  ; 
Through  His  merits  great,  whilst  we 
Travel  to  eternity, 
And  with  the  blessed  angels  sing 
Hosannahs  to  the  heavenly  King.^ 

Sir  William  Davenant  (1606- 1688),  was  a  man  of  far 
from  strict  life,  and  much  influenced  by  Hobbes'  sceptical 
philosophy.  But  he  evidently  thought  a  good  deal 
about  the  relation  between  faith  and  reason,  and  the 
mysteries  of  human  life  and  of  the  Divine  providence. 
I  quote  a  few  stanzas  from  his  Gondibert  (1650) : — 

Of  the  Exercise  of  Marl's   Faculties   oft    Things  Infinite  and 
Divine  : — 

For  error's  mist  doth  bound  the  spirit's  sight. 
As  clouds — which  make  earth's  arched  roof  seem  low  - 

Restrain  the  body's  eyes  ;  and  still,  when  light 
Grows  clearer  upwards,  heaven  must  higher  show. 


In  gathering  knowledge  from  the  sacred  tree, 
I  would  not  snatch  in  haste  the  fruit  below  ; 

But  rather  climb,  like  those  who  curious  be. 
And  boldly  taste  that  which  doth  highest  grow. 

For  knowledge  would  her  prospect  take  in  height 
'Tis  God's  loved  eaglet,  bred  by  Him  to  fly, 

Though  with  weak  eyes,  still  upward  at  the  light, 
And  may  soar  short,  but  cannot  soar  too  high.- 


C.  Cotton\<:  Poems,  Chalmers,  iv.  729. 


2  Davenant'' s  Poems,    Gondibert,    '  Death  of  Astragon,"  viii. 
xxxiii.  (Anderson,  iv. ). 


Old  English  Verse  291 

Of  Praise^  as  that  exercise  of  devotion  in  which  all  forms  of 
faith  may  with  one  accord  unite.     Praise  is 

The  differing  world's  agreeing  sacrifice  ; 
Where  heaven  divided  faiths  united  finds  ; 
But  prayer  in  various  discord  upward  flies, ^ 

For  the  following-  verses  I  am  indebted  to  Palgravc's 
Treasury  of  Sacred  Song : — 

Frail  Life  1  in  which,  through  mists  of  human  breath, 
We  grope  for  truth,  and  make  our  progress  slow. 

Because  by  passion  blinded  ;  till,  by  death 
Our  passions  ending,  we  begin  to  know. 

O  harmless  Death  ;  whom  still  the  valiant  bra\'e, 

The  wise  expel,  the  sorrowful  invite. 
And  all  the  good  embrace,  who  know  the  grave 

A  short  dark  passage  to  eternal  light. - 

The  Divine  Emblems  of  John  Bunyan  (1628-88),  A 
Book  for  Boys  and  Girls,  published  1686,  was  only 
known  to  be  existing  in  its  shorter  form  until  1889,  when 
a  copy  of  the  original  work  was  discovered,  and  secured 
to  the  British  Museum.  It  has  now  been  reprinted  in 
facsimile.  It  is,  as  its  editor  calls  it,  a  sort  of  religious 
^^sop,  homely  and  unpolished,  but  not  without  touches 
of  imagination  worthy  of  the  writer  of  Pilgrim's  Pro- 
gress. He  addresses  it  to  children,  with  a  sort  of 
apology.  They  may  call  him,  he  says,  a  baby,  for 
playing  with  them,  but  he  w^ould  fain  let  them  see  how 
the  '  fingle-fangles '  on  which  they  dote  may  be  gins 
and  snares  to  entangle  and  destroy  their  souls.  I  give 
two  or  three  illustrations  from  it  : — 

Upon  the  Weathercock. 

Brave  weathercock,  I  see  thou 't  set  thy  nose 
Against  the  wind,  which  way  soe'er  it  blows. 
So  let  a  Christian  in  any  wise 
Face  it  with  Antichrist  in  each  disguise.^ 

^   Gondibert,  canto  6,  Ixxxiv. 

-  From  Palgrave's  Treasury  of  Sacred  Song,  Ixxxvi. 
^  foh7i  Bunyati's  Divine  Emblems,  etc. ,  1686  ;  ed.  with  Life  bv  J.  Brown, 
D.D.,  1889,  No.  Ixix. 


292  Religious  Thought  in 

Of  the  Mole  in  the  Ground. 

A  mole 's  a  creature  very  smooth  and  slick, 
She  digs  i'  th'  dirt,  but  'twill  not  on  her  stick. 
vSo's  he  who  counts  this  world  his  greatest  gains, 
Yet  nothing  gets  but^s  labour  for  his  pains. 
Earth 's  the  mole's  element  ;  she  can't  abide 
To  be  above  ground  ;  dirt  heaps  are  her  pride  ; 
And  he  is  like  her,  who  the  worldling  plays  ; 
He  imitates  her  in  her  works  and  ways. 

Poor  idle  mole,  that  thou  should'st  love  to  be 
Where  thou  nor  sun,  nor  moon,  nor  stars  can  sec. 
But  oh,  how  silly 's  he,  who  doth  not  care, 
So  he  gets  earth,  to  have  of  heaven  a  share.' 

The  following  is  upon  the  same  subject  as  his  well- 
known  sermon : — 

Upon  the  Barren  Fig-tree. 

What,  barren  here  I  in  this  so  good  a  soil ! 
The  sight  of  this  doth  make  God's  heart  recoil 
From  giving  thee  His  blessing.     Barren  tree, 
Bear  fruit,  or  else  thy  end  will  cursed  be  ! 

Art  thou  not  planted  by  the  water  side  ? 
Know'st  not  thy  Lord  by  fruit  is  glorified  ? 
The  sentence  is,  Cut  down  the  barren  tree  ; 
Bear  fruit,  or  else  thy  end  wdll  cursed  be  ! 

Hast  not  been  digg'd  about  and  dunged  too  ? 
Will  neither  patience  nor  yet  dressing  do  ? 
The  executioner  is  come,  O  tree, 
Bear  fruit,  or  else  thy  end  will  cursed  be  I 

He  that  about  thy  roots  takes  pain  to  dig, 
W^ould,  if  on  thee  were  found  but  one  good  fig. 
Preserve  thee  from  the  axe  ;  but,  barren  tree, 
Bear  fruit,  or  else  thy  end  will  cursed  be  ! 

The  utmost  end  of  patience  is  at  hand  ; 
'Tis  much  if  thou  much  longer  here  doth  stand, 
O  Cumber-ground,  thou  art  a  barren  tree, 
Bear  fruit,  or  else  thy  end  will  cursed  be  ! 

Thy  standing  nor  thy  name  will  help  at  all, 
When  fruitful  tiees  are  spared,  thou  must  fall  ; 
The  axe  is  laid  unto  thy  roots,  O  tree. 
Bear  fruit,  or  else  thy  end  will  cursed  be  I  - 

'  John  Bunyaii's  Divine  Evihlefns^  No.  xix.  "  Id. 


Old  English  Verse  293 

The  Scriptural  Poems  ascribed  to  Bunyan  on  Job, 
Daniel,  etc.,  are  of  doubtful  authenticity,  and,  at  all 
events,  are  very  prosy. 

Thomas  Flatman  (1633-88),  a  barrister- at-law,  pub- 
lished in  1674  some  Poems  and  Songs,  which  passed 
through  three  or  four  editions.  Among  them  are  a 
Thought  on  Death,  several  lines  of  which  Pope  closely 
imitated  in  his  Dying  Christian,  and  two  rather  pretty 
morning  and  evening  hymns.  The  latter  of  these  is  as 
follows  :  — 

Sleep  !  drowsy  sleep  I  come,  close  mine  eyes, 

Tired  with  beholding  vanities  I 

Sweet  slumber,  come  and  chase  away 

The  toils  and  follies  of  the  day  : 

On  your  soft  bosom  will  I  lie, 

Forget  the  world,  and  learn  to  die. 

O  Israel's  watchful  Shepherd,  spread 

Tents  of  angels  round  my  bed  ; 

Let  not  the  spirits  of  the  air. 

While  I  slumber,  me  ensnare, 

But  save  Thy  suppliant  free  from  harms 

Clasp'd  in  Thine  everlasting  arms. 

Clouds  and  thick  darkness  are  Thy  throne, 

Thy  wonderful  pavilion  : 

Oh,  dart  from  thence  a  shining  ray, 

And  then  my  midnight  shall  be  day  ! 

That,  when  the  morn  in  crimson  drest 

Breaks  through  the  windows  of  the  East, 

My  hymns  of  thankful  praises  shall  arise 

Like  incense  or  the  morning  sacrifice.^ 

In  Richard  Baxter  (161 5-91)  the  English  Church 
lost,  under  Charles  the  Second's  Act  of  Uniformity,  a 
good  and  true-hearted  man,  of  whom  any  church  might 
have  been  proud.  He  had  received  holy  orders  from 
the  Bishop  of  Winchester  in  1638,  and,  though  he  soon 
after  adopted  several  Nonconformist  opinions,  remained 
throughout  his  life  wide  and  generous  in  his  sympathies. 
In  1640  he  was  invited  to  help  the  Vicar  of  Kidder- 
minster, but  through  most  of  the  Civil  War  was  with 
the  Parliamentary  army,  ever  using  his  influence  and 

^  Poems  and  Songs  by  T.  Flatman,  i6'j6,  p.  45. 


294  Religious  Thought  in 

eloquence  in  favour  of  milder  and  more  liberal  views 
than  those  which  were  generally  predominant  there. 
At  the  Restoration  he  was  made  one  of  the  King's 
Chaplains,  and  was  offered  the  Bishopric  of  Hereford. 
He  declined  it,  but  would  gladly  have  remained  at 
Kidderminster,  if  the  Act  of  Uniformity  had  been  less 
unbending.  The  Sainfs  Everlasting  Rest  had  been  pub- 
lished by  him  in  1650.  In  his  later  years  he  suffered, 
to  the  great  shame  of  our  rulers  in  Church  and  State, 
not  a  little  indignity  and  persecution.  His  poetiy  is 
much  varied  in  quality,  much  of  it  very  indifferent, 
with  passages  here  and  there  of  great  beauty,  full  of 
religious  fervour.  The  hymn,  *  Lord,  it  belongs  not  to 
my  care,'  is,  most  deservedly,  too  well  known  to  need 
quoting  here.  Another  excellent  hymn  of  his  is  that 
which  begins,  '  Ye  holy  angels  bright ! '  But  it  has 
been  much  improved  and  partly  recast  in  1858  by  Chope. 
The  following  are  some  lines  from  The  Resolution, 
written,  he  says,  'when  I  was  silenced  and  cast  out.' 
expecting  imprisonment : — 

What  if  in  prison  I  must  dwell  ? 

May  I  not  there  converse  with  Thee  ? 
Save  me  from  sin.  Thy  wrath,  and  hell, 

Call  me  Thy  child,  and  I  am  free. 
No  walls  or  bars  can  keep  Thee  out  ; 

None  can  confine  a  holy  soul. 
The  streets  of  Heaven  it  walks  about, 

None  can  its  liberty  control. 

O  loose  these  chains  of  sin  and  flesh  ; 

Enlarge  my  heart  in  Thy  commands. 
Could  I  but  love  Thee  as  I  wish, 

How  light  would  be  all  other  bands  I ' 

The   following  is   from   Love  breathing  Thanks  and 
Praise : — 

Here  lies  my  pain  I  this  is  my  daily  sore  : 
I  hate  my  heart  for  loving  God  no  more. 


^  Poetical  Fragments  of  R.  Baxter. 


Old  English  Verse  295 

Do  I  not  love  Thee,  when  I  love  to  love  Thee  ? 
And  when  I  set  up  nothing  else  above  Thee  ? 
Next  God  Himself,  who  is  my  End  and  Rest, 
Love,  which  stands  next  Thee,  I  esteem  my  best.^ 

John  Mason,  Rector  of  Water  Stratford,  Bucks,  was 
a  devout  and  excellent  man,  though  somewhat  carried 
away  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  by  wild  and  ex- 
travagant notions.  He  died  in  1694.  His  Songs  of 
Praise  were  published  in  1683.  Among  them  is  that 
hymn  which  tells  of  the  living  water  in  words  which 
thrill  with  a  more  than  common  rapture  of  religious 
expectation  : — 

The  stream  doth  water  Paradise, 
It  makes  the  angels  sing. 

1  may  also  quote  the  following  : — 

FROM   SONG   I. 

How  great  a  Being,  Lord,  is  Thine, 

Which  doth  all  beings  keep  I 
Thy  knowledge  is  the  only  line 

To  sound  so  vast  a  deep  : 
Thou  art  a  Sea  without  a  shore, 

A  Sun  without  a  sphere  ; 
Thy  time  is  now  and  evermore  ; 

Thy  place  is  everywhere.'-^ 

FROM  SONG  IV. 

My  God,  Thou  art  my  glorious  Sun, 

By  whose  bright  beams  I  shine  ; 
As  Thou,  Lord,  ever  art  with  me, 

Let  me  be  ever  Thine. 
Thou  art  my  living  Fountain,  Lord, 

Whose  streams  on  me  do  flow  ; 
Myself  I  render  unto  Thee 

To  Whom  myself  I  owe. 

I  may  add  the  following  four  lines  : — 

I  come,  I  wait,  I  hear,  I  pray  ! 

Thy  footsteps.  Lord,  I  trace  1 
I  sing  to  think  this  is  the  way 

Unto  my  Saviour's  face.^ 

^  Poetical  Fragments  of  R.  Baxter,  i8. 

2  So7igs  of  Praise  by  John  Mason,  1859. 

^  Mason's  Songs  of  Praise,  and  J.  Shepherd's  Petiitential  Cries,  1859. 


296  Religious  Thought  in 

The  poems  of  Henry  Vaughan  (1621-95)  contain, 
amid  a  good  deal  that  is  rather  strained  and  tedious, 
some  passages  worthy  of  taking  a  very  high  place  in 
English  sacred  verse.  He  was  one  of  twin  brothers  in 
an  ancient  and  honourable  Welsh  family  connected 
with  the  Earls  of  Worcester.  They  were  together  at 
Jesus  College,  Oxford,  in  1638,  when  Charles  was  hold- 
ing his  court  in  that  city.  The  two  brothers,  Henry 
and  Thomas,  attached  themselves  zealously  to  the 
Royal  side.  Thomas  took  up  arms  in  the  King's 
cause,  then  became  ordained  to  the  living  of  his  own 
birthplace,  was  ejected  by  the  Parliamentary  Com- 
missioners, retired  to  Oxford  and  devoted  his  time  to 
alchymy  and  Rosicrucianism.  He  wrote  some  fair 
poetry  in  English  and  Latin.  Henry,  meanwhile,  had 
left  Oxford  to  study  medicine  in  London,  where  he 
became  acquainted  with  Ben  Jonson  and  other 
literary  men  of  that  day.  He  took  his  M.D.  degree 
and  settled  in  his  old  home  at  Newton,  practising  his 
profession,  and  employing  his  leisure  in  literature.  In 
1649  he  had  a  long  and  severe  illness,  during  which  he 
became  impressed  with  deeper  religious  feelings  than 
heretofore.  He  became  acquainted  with  the  poems  of 
George  Herbert,  read  them  with  delight,  and  was  much 
influenced  by  them  in  his  compositions.  In  1650  he 
published  the  first  part  of  his  Silex  Scintillans  (Sparks 
from  the  Flint).  This  was  in  poetry.  During  the  next 
^e\v  years  his  writings  were  chiefly  essays  and  medita- 
tions in  prose.  In  1655  he  published  the  second  part 
of  the  Silex  Scintillans.  This  was  his  last  publication.^ 
During  the  forty  years  that  followed  he  lived  quietly  in 
his  pleasant  home  by  the  Esk,  and  died  at  the  age  of 
.seventy-three. 

Nothing  which  he  wrote  is  finer  than  the  following, 
his  In  Memorimn  of  dear  friends  : — 


^  Some,  however,  of  his  miscellaneous  verses,  chiefly  of  an  early  date, 
'ere  published  in  1678  by  one  of  his  Oxford  friends. 


Old  English  Verse  297 

They  are  all  gone  into  the  world  of  light 

And  I  alone  sit  ling'ring  here  ; 
Their  ver>'  memory  is  fair  and  bright, 

And  my  sad  thoughts  doth  clear. 

It  glows  and  glitters  in  my  cloudy  breast 

Like  stars  upon  some  gloomy  grove, 
Or  those  faint  beams  in  which  the  hill  is  drest 

After  the  sun's  remove. 

I  see  them  walking  in  an  air  of  glory. 
Whose  light  doth  trample  on  my  days  ; 

My  days  which  are  at  best  but  dull  and  hoar)^, 
Mere  glimmerings  and  decays. 

O  holy  hope,  and  high  humility, 

High  as  the  heavens  above  I 
These  are  your  walks,  and  you  have  showed  them  me, 

To  kindle  my  cold  love. 

Dear,  beauteous  death  ;  the  jewel  of  the  just  ! 

Shining  nowhere  but  in  the  dark  ; 
What  mysteries  do  lie  beyond  thy  dust. 

Could  man  outlook  that  mark  I 

He  that  hath  found  some  fledged  bird's  nest  may  know, 

At  first  sight,  if  the  bird  be  flown  ; 
But  what  fair  dell  or  grove  he  sings  in  now — 

That  is  to  him  unknown. 

And  yet,  as  angels  in  some  brighter  dream 
Call  to  the  soul  when  man  doth  sleep. 

So  some  strange  thoughts  transcend  our  wonted  themes 
And  into  glory  peep. 

O  Father  of  eternal  life  and  all 

Created  glories  under  Thee  I 
Resume  Thy  spirit  from  this  world  of  thrall 

Into  true  liberty  I  ^ 

FROM  HIS  VERSES  '  ON  THE  DAY  OF  JUDGEMENT.' 

O  day  of  life,  of  light,  of  love, 
The  only  day  dealt  from  above  I 
A  day  so  fresh,  so  bright,  so  brave, 
'Twill  show  us  each  forgotten  grave. 
And  make  the  dead  like  floweis  arise 
Youthful  and  fair  to  see  new  skies. 

^  Silex  Scintillans,  Pt.  ii.  :  H.    Vaiighans  Poems,  ed.   by   H.  F.  Lvte, 
[847. 


298  Religious  Thought  in 

All  other  days,  compared  to  Thee, 
Are  but  Hght's  weak  minority, 
They  are  but  veils  and  cyphers  drawn 
Like  clouds  before  thy  glorious  dawn. 
O  come  1  arise  !  shine  I  do  not  stay. 

Dearly  loved  day  1 
The  fields  are  long  since  white,  and  I 
With  earnest  groans  for  freedom  cry  ; 
My  fellow-creatures  too  say.  Come  ! 
And  stones,  though  speechless,  are  not  dumb, 
When  shall  we  hear  that  glorious  voice 

Of  life  and  joys  ? 
That  voice,  which  to  each  secret  bed 

Of  my  Lord's  dead 
Shall  bring  true  day,  and  make  dust  see 
The  way  to  immortality  ! 
When  shall  those  first  white  pilgrims  rise, 
Whose  holy  happy  histories 
Because  they  sleep  so  long,  some  men 
Count  but  the  blots  of  a  vain  pen  ? 

Dear  Lord,  make  haste  ! 
Sin  every  day  commits  more  waste  : 
And  Thy  old  enemy  which  knows 
His  time  is  short,  more  raging  grows.^ 

LOVE   AND   DISCIPLINE. 

Since  in  a  land  not  barren,  still 
(Because  Thou  dost  Thy  grace  distil) 
My  lot  is  fall'n,  blest  be  Thy  will  ! 

And  since  these  biting  frosts  but  kill 
Some  tares  in  me,  which  choke  or  spill 
T'lic  seed  Thou  so  west,  blest  be  Thy  skill  I 

Blest  be  Thy  dew,  and  blest  Thy  frost ; 

And  happy  I  to  be  so  crost 

And  cared  by  crosses,  at  Thy  cost. 

The  dew  doth  cheer  what  is  distrest. 
The  frosts  ill  weeds  nip  and  molest  ; 
In  both  Thou  work'"st  unto  the  best  : — 

Thus,  while  Thy  several  mercies  plot 
And  work  on  me,  now  cold,  now  hot. 
The  work  goes  on  and  slacketh  not. 

For  as  Thy  hand  the  weather  steers, 
So  thrive  I  best  'twixt  joys  and  fears, 
And  all  the  years  have  some  green  ears. 


^  Silex  Sciiitillans^  Ft.  ii.  p.  184. 


Old  English  Verse  299 

Sir  Edward  Sherburne  (161 8- 1702)  was  a  Roman 
Catholic,  joined  the  King's  army  during  the  Civil  Wars, 
and  at  the  defeat  of  the  Royal  cause  was  much  plundered 
and  impoverished.  All  his  later  years  were  spent  in 
studious  quiet. 

GOOD   FRIDAY. 

This  day  Eternal  Love  for  me, 
Fast  nailed  unto  a  cursed  tree, 
Rending  His  fleshy  veil,  did  through  His  side 

A  way  to  Paradise  provide. 
This  day  Life  died,  and  dying,  overthrew 
Death,  Sin,  and  Satan  too. 
O  happy  day  I 
]\Iay  sinners  say. 
But  day  can  it  be  said  to  be, 
Wherein  we  see 
The  bright  sun  of  celestial  light 
O'ershadowed  with  so  black  a  night  !  ^ 

No  one  would  look  for  religious  verses  of  any  depth 
in  the  works  of  John  Dryden  (1631-1701).  Still  his 
mind  was  often  occupied  with  the  questions  which 
were  disputed  between  Roman  Catholics  and  Protest- 
ants, and  between  Christianity  and  Deism.  His  Religio 
Laid,  1682,  is  simply  an  argument  in  verse  on  the 
relation  of  faith  to  reason  : — 

How  can  the  less  the  greater  comprehend  ? 

Or  finite  reason  reach  Infinity? 

For  what  could  fathom  God  were  more  than  He. 

Thus  man  by  his  own  strength  to  heaven  would  soar  ; 
And  would  not  be  obliged  to  God  for  more. 
Vain  wretched  creature,  how  art  thou  misled 
To  think  thy  wit  these  godlike  notions  bred, 
These  truths  are  not  the  product  of  thy  mind. 
But  dropt  from  heaven,  and  of  a  nobler  kind. 
Reveal'd  religion  first  informed  thy  sight. 
And  reason  saw  not,  till  faith  sprung  the  light. 

Most  versions  of  the  Veni,  Creator  Spiritus  have  more 
or  less  merit.     Dryden's  paraphrase  of  it  is  not  equal 

^  Sir  E.  She7-biirne  s  Foeuis,  Chalmers's  British  Poets,  vol.  vi.  p.  633. 


300  Religious  Thought  in 

to  some,  but  would  be  thought  good  if  there  were  not 
others  better.     The  following  is  part  of  it : — 

Creator  Spirit,  by  whose  aid 
The  world's  foundations  first  were  laid, 
Come,  visit  every  pious  mind  ; 
Come,  pour  Thy  joys  on  human  kind  ; 
From  sin  and  sorrow  set  us  free. 
And  make  Thy  temples  worthy  Thee. 

Refine  and  purge  our  earthly  parts  ; 
But,  oh,  inflame  and  fire  our  hearts  ! 
Our  frailties  help,  our  vice  control, 
Submit  the  senses  to  the  soul  ; 
And  when  rebellious  they  are  grown, 
Then  lay  Thy  hand,  and  hold  them  down, 
Chase  from  our  minds  th"  infernal  foe. 
And  peace,  the  fruit  of  love,  bestow  ; 
And,  lest  our  feet  should  step  astray. 
Protect  and  guide  us  in  the  way. 
Make  us  eternal  truths  receive, 
And  practise  all  that  we  believe  : 
Give  us  Thyself,  that  we  may  see 
The  Father  and  the  Son  by  Thee. 

Half  a  century  after  the  death  of  George  Herbert, 
the  tiny  parish  church  of  Bemerton  again  had  its  pulpit 
occupied  by  a  rector  whose  name  will  ever  stand  high 
in  the  roll  of  English  sacred  poets.  John  Norris  was 
born  in  1657,  and  educated  at  Winchester,  and  Exeter 
College,  Oxford.  In  1680  he  was  elected  Fellow  of  All 
Souls.  In  1684  he  published  his  Poems.  In  1689  he 
was  presented  to  the  Rectory  of  St.  Loe,  in  Somerset- 
shire, and  in  1691  was  transferred  to  that  of  Bemerton, 
Wilts.  It  was  there  that  he  published  his  sermons, 
essays,  and  philosophical  works.  He  died  there  in 
171 1,  and  on  his  tomb  are  the  appropriate  and  sugges- 
tive words,  '  Bene  latuit.'  Norris  was  one  of  the  chief 
ornaments  of  that  noble  school  of  Christian  Platonists, 
which  about  the  same  period  numbered  among  its 
English  adherents  the  names  of  Cudworth,  Henry  More, 
John  Smith,  Benjamin  Whichcot,  Widrington,  and 
W^ilkins.  His  religious  poems  are  of  a  wholly  different 
kind  from  those  of  his  illustrious  predecessor  at  Bemer- 


Old  English  Verse  301 

ton.  Their  charm  chiefly  consists  in  the  expression 
they  give  to  the  yearnings  and  aspirations  of  the  human 
soul  for  ideals  of  beauty  and  perfectness,  not  to  be 
realised  here  in  the  flesh,  but  which  it  believes  with  a 
firm  hope  will  be  attainable  in  the  fuller  life  of  eternity 
If  it  be  said,  and  that  with  truth,  that  his  thought  is 
somewhat  enveloped  in  a  sort  of  golden  haze,  yet  this 
is  an  atmosphere  not  unsuited  to  the  region  of  hope 
and  undefined  wistfulness  in  which  a  pure  and  philo- 
sophic mind,  trained  in  a  lofty  creed,  looks  forward  into 
the  mystic  future.  The  frequent  fault  of  his  verses  is 
one  very  common  in  his  age — an  artificial  striving  after 
sublimity  of  language,  as  distinguished  from  that  of 
thought.  The  style  of  Pindar's  odes  had  a  fascination 
for  verse-writers  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries  which  was  prejudicial  in  the  extreme  to  simple 
purity  of  diction.  Even  the  success  which  it  now  and 
then  attained  to  was  misleading.  A  majestic  combina- 
tion of  words,  or  a  really  grand  figure  of  speech,  might 
easily  tempt  the  poet,  or  his  imitators,  to  a  soaring 
flight  which  could  not  be  sustained,  and  which  quickly 
degenerated  into  inflation  and  mannerism.  Norris  is 
not  nearly  so  liable  to  this  imputation  as  some  of  his 
contemporaries  and  successors  ;  but  he  is  not  free  from  it. 
The  following  little  poem  is  entitled  The  Aspiration : — 

How  long,  great  God,  how  long  must  I 

Immured  in  this  dark  prison  lie  ! 
Where  at  the  grates  and  avenues  of  sense 
My  soul  must  watch  to  have  intelHgence  ; 
Where  but  faint  gleams  of  Thee  salute  my  sight, 
Like  doubtful  moonshine  in  a  cloudy  night. 

When  shall  I  leave  this  magic  sphere. 

And  be  all  mind,  all  eye,  all  ear  ? 

How  cold  this  clime  I  and  yet  my  sense 

Perceives  even  here  Thy  influence. 
Even  here  Thy  strong  magnetic  charms  I  feel. 
And  pant  and  tremble  like  the  amorous  steel. 
To  lower  good,  and  beauties  less  divine. 
Sometimes  my  erroneous  needle  does  decline  ; 

But  yet — so  strong  the  sympathy — 

It  turns,  and  points  again  to  Thee. 


302  Religious  Thought  in 

I  long  to  see  this  excellence 

Which  at  such  distance  strikes  my  sense  ; 
My  impatient  soul  struggles  to  disengage 
Her  wings  from  the  confinement  of  her  cage. 
To  Thee,  Thou  only  fair,  my  soul  aspires 
With  holy  breathings,  languishing  desires. 

To  Thee  my  enamoured,  panting  heart  does  move 

By  efforts  of  ecstatic  love. 

How  do  Thy  glorious  streams  of  light 

Refresh  my  intellectual  sight  I 

Though  broken,  and  strained  through  a  screen 

Of  envious  flesh  that  stands  between  ! 

When  shall  my  imprisoned  soul  be  free, 
That  she  Thy  native  uncorrected  light  may  see, 
And  gaze  upon  Thy  beatific  face  to  all  eternity  ?* 

The  great  problem,  the  solemn  mystery  of  death, 
possessed  a  great  fascination  for  his  mind.  He  often 
alludes  to  it,  as  for  example — 

What  a  strange  moment  will  that  be. 

My  soul,  how  full  of  curiosity. 
When  wing'd,  and  ready  for  thy  eternal  flight, 

On  the  utmost  edges  of  the  tottering  day, 

Hovering,  and  wishing  longer  stay. 
Thou  shalt  advance  and  have  Eternity  in  sight ; 
Would'st  Thou,  great  Love,  this  prisoner  once  set  free. 
How  would  she  hasten  to  be  link'd  with  Thee. 

She  'd  for  no  angel's  conduct  stay, 

But  fly,  and  love  on  all  the  way.^ 

FROM    'SERAPHIC   LOVE.' 

Through  Contemplation's  optics  I  have  seen 
Him  who  is  faiier  than  the  sons  of  men, — 
The  Source  of  good,  the  Light  archetypal. 

Beauty  in  the  original, 

The  fairest  of  ten  thousand  He, 

Proportion  all  and  Harmony, 

All  mortal  beauty  "s  but  a  ray 

Of  His  bright,  ever-shining  day — 

A  little,  feeble,  twinkling  star, 
Which,  now  the  sun  's  in  place,  must  disappear. 
There  is  but  One  that's  good,  but  One  that's  fair. 

When  just  about  to  try  that  unknown  sea. 

What  a  strange  moment  will  that  be  I 

^  Morris's  Poems,  Grosart  iii.  174.  -  fd.  63. 


Old  English  Verse  303 

But  yet  how  much  more  strange  that  state 

When,  loosen'd  from  th'  embrace  of  this  close  mate, 
Thou  shalt  at  once  be  plunged  in  liberty, 

And  move  as  free  and  active  as  a  ray 

Shot  from  the  lucid  spring  of  day  ! 
Thou  who  just  now  wast  clogg'd  with  dull  mortality. 

That  it  may  not  seem  as  if  Norris's  religious  verse 
were  all  of  the  contemplative  and  speculative  kind,  I 
give  another  quotation.     It  is  from  The  Resignation. 

I  '11  trust  my  great  Physician  still, 
I  know  what  He  prescribes  can  ne'er  be  ill  ; 

To  each  disease  He  knows  what's  fit, 
I  own  Him  wise  and  good,  and  do  submit, 

r  11  now  no  longer  grieve  or  pine. 
Since  'tis  Thy  pleasure.  Lord,  it  shall  be  mine. 

Thy  medicine  puts  me  to  great  smart. 
Thou  'st  wounded  me  in  my  most  tender  part  ; 

But  'tis  with  a  design  to  cure, 
I  must  and  will  Thy  sovereign  touch  endure. 

All  that  I  prized  below  is  gone, 
But  yet  I  still  will  pray,  '  Thy  will  be  done  I ' 

Since  'tis  Thy  sentence,  I  should  part 
With  the  most  precious  treasure  of  my  heart  ; 

I  freely  that  and  more  resign — 
My  heart  itself,  as  its  delight  is  Thine  ; 

My  little  all  I  give  to  Thee  ; 
Thou  gav'st  a  greater  cost,  Thy  Son,  to  me. 

He  left  true  bliss  and  joy  above, 
Himself  He  emptied  of  all  good  but  love  : 

For  me  He  freely  did  forsake 
More  good  than  He  from  me  can  ever  take. 

A  mortal  life  for  a  divine 
He  took,  and  did  even  that  at  last  resign. 

Take  all,  great  God  ;  I  will  not  grieve, 
But  still  will  wish  that  I  had  still  to  give. 

I  hear  Thy  voice  ;  Thou  bidst  me  quit 
My  paradise  ;  I  bless  and  do  submit. 

I  will  not  murmur  at  Thy  word. 
Nor  beg  Thy  angel  to  sheath  up  his  sword. ^ 

Among  Norris's  poems  are  a  few  Paraphrases.  Those 
of  parts  of  the  137th  and  139th  Psalms  are  excellent. 

^  Norris's  Poems,  Grosart  iii.  162. 


304  Religious  Thought  in 

James  Chamberlayne  {c.  1660-1724)  held  the  office  of 
Gentleman-Usher  to  Prince  George  of  Denmark.  He 
was  a  man  of  very  considerable  acquirements,  knew 
well  Greek,  Latin,  High  and  Low  Dutch,  French, 
Portuguese,  and  Italian,  and  had  some  intelligent  know- 
ledge of  sixteen  languages.  He  continued  a  work,  once 
in  much  repute,  which  his  father  had  begun,  on  The 
Present  State  of  Ejigland,  wrote  or  translated  several 
theological,  historical,  and  philosophical  treatises,  and 
was  a  Fellow  of  the  Royal  Society.  He  was  a  man 
of  much  piety,  very  anxious  for  the  advancement  of 
religion,  and  maintained  an  extensive  correspondence 
with  leading  men  abroad,  who  he  hoped  might  do 
something  to  further  these  good  designs.  He  wrote  in 
verse  a  history  of  our  Lord  on  earth,  together  with 
paraphrases  of  the  Psalms,  and  some  original  poems 
(1680).     The  following  is  entitled  Domine  Jesu  : — 

The  virtue  of  that  balm  which  did  distil 
From  Thy  pierc'd  side  infuse  into  my  will, 
That  Thy  good  pleasure  here  I  may  fulfil. 
Make  me  to  Thee  as  to  the  centre  moAe  ; 
Each  thought  and  act  refine  ;  inflame  my  love 
To  all  Thy  ways,  that  I  may  faithful  prove. 
And  since  to  Thee  the  Cross  must  be  my  guide, 
That  joy  which  made  Thee,  make  me  to  abide 
Its  weight,  that  I  in  Paradise  reside.^ 

Thomas  Shepherd  (1665- 1739),  who  gave  up  a  living 
in  Buckinghamshire,  and  became  the  pastor  of  a  Con- 
gregational church  in  Northampton,  and  afterwards  of 
one  at  Braintree,  Essex,  was  the  author  of  Penitential 
Cries.  They  were  published  in  1692,  and  were  often 
bound  up  with  Mason's  Songs  of  Praise.  The  following 
is  from  the  30th  : — 

My  God,  my  God,  my  Light,  my  Love, 

Mine  All  in  All  to  me  ! 
Wilt  Thou  a  gracious  Father  prove 

To  souls  that  hang  on  Thee  ? 


A  Sacred  Poem,  etc.,  by  James  Chamberlayne,  1680,  p.  182. 


Old  English  Verse  305 

My  God,  my  God,  my  Light,  my  Love. 

Can'st  Thou  that  soul  forsake. 
That  follows  Thee  with  artless  cries. 

Longing  to  overtake  ? 

My  God,  my  God,  my  Light,  my  Love, 

Come,  come,  with  me  abide  ; 
Rejoice  me  with  Thy  presence,  Lord, 

I  have  no  joy  beside. 

My  God,  my  God,  my  Light,  my  Love. 

Hear  Thou  my  mournful  cry  ; 
The  God  of  Love  hears  from  above. 

He  will  not  see  me  die  I  ^ 

The  poems  of  John  Pomfret  (1677- 1703),  Rector  of 
Luton,  once  enjoyed  a  popularity  of  no  ordinary  kind. 
It  is  said  that  during  '  the  whole  of  the  eighteenth 
century  no  other  volume  of  poems  was  so  often  re- 
printed, or  held  in  such  popular  estimation.'  It  was 
not  among  the  critics  and  judges  of  poetry  that  they 
won  this  favour,  but  among  the  multitude,  on  whose 
scanty  shelves  lay  a  few  books  in  common  paper  and 
coarse  sheepskin.  There  Pomfret's  Poems  held  an 
honoured  place,  scarcely  second  to  Robinson  Crusoe  and 
Pilgrim's  Progress.  'They  were  even  printed  in 
America  in  the  middle  of  that  century  when  so  few 
books  had  been  printed  there  that  two  pages  might 
comprise  the  catalogue.'^  Dr.  Johnson^  and  Southey^ 
are  both  rather  perplexed  how  to  explain  all  this  honour 
paid  to  a  poet  whose  merits  are  not  very  great.  Pro- 
bably the  long  immunity  from  fate  which  Pomfret's 
poetical  reputation  gained  was  chiefly  owing  to  the 
pleasure  which  average  human  nature  always  finds  in 
finding  its  own  ideas — those,  at  all  events,  which  are 
most  creditable  or  respectable — smoothly  clothed  in 
language  above,  but  not  too  much  above,  its  own  level. 
Much  in  the  same  way  as  among  his  secular  poems 
The  Choice  touched  with  a  light  and  easy  hand  those 

^  T.  Shepherd's  Penitential  Cries,  1692. 
2  Quarterly  Review,  vol.  xxxv.  p.  189. 
^  Dr.  Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets,  vol.  ii.  p.  4. 
^  Southey's  Later  English  Poets,  vol.  i.  p.  96. 
U  • 


3o6  Religious  Tkoiight  in 

objects  of  ambition  which  come  most  home  to  the 
heart  of  an  ordinary  EngHshman  in  relation  to  material 
comfortableness,  so,  in  handling  sacred  topics,  Pomfret 
keeps  well  within  the  range  of  such  religious  and  moral 
ideas  as  the  bulk  of  well-meaning  people  can  easily 
aspire  to.  In  the  poem,  for  instance,  upon  the  Divine 
attributes,  thoughts  which  all  men  are  more  or  less 
alive  to,  of  human  life  and  of  infinity,  are  suggested, 
without  being  entered  into  too  deeply,  and  with  too 
refined  argument  for  a  moderate  and  uncultivated 
intellect.  Still,  among  very  much  that  is  mediocre, 
there  are  a  few  lines  which  rise  quite  above  the  level. 
Such  are  these,  from  the  closing  part  of  Pomfret's  poem 
on  the  Judgment,  which  I  borrow  from  Palgrave's 
Treasury  of  Sacred  Song  : — 

ANGELS'   SONG. 

O  holy,  holy,  holy  Lord, 
Eternal  God,  Almighty  One, 
Be  Thou  for  ever,  and  be  Thou  alone 
By  all  Thy  creatures,  constantly  adored  I 
Ineffable,  co-equal  Three, 
Who  from  nonentity  gave  birth 
To  angels  and  to  men,  to  heaven  and  to  earth. 
Yet  always  wast  Thyself,  and  wilt  for  ever  be.  ' 
But  for  Thy  mercy,  we  had  ne'er  possest 
These  thrones,  and  this  immense  felicity 
Could  ne'er  have  been  so  infinitely  blest  ! 
Therefore  all  glory,  power,  dominion,  majesty. 
To  Thee,  O  Lamb  of  God,  to  Thee 
For  ever,  longer  than  for  ever,  be. 

The  following  anonymous  poem  of  the  seventeenth 
century  I  take  from  Emily  Ta)4or's  Flowers  and  Fruits 
from  Old  EnglisJi  Gardens : — 

THE  child's  death. 

He  did  but  float  a  little  way 

Adown  the  stream  of  time  ; 
With  dreamy  eyes  watching  the  ripples  play 
Or  listening  to  their  chime. 
His  slender  sail 
Scarce  felt  the  gale  : 


Old  English  Verse  307 

He  did  but  float  a  little  way, 

And,  putting  to  the  shore, 
While  yet  'twas  early  day, 
Went  calmly  on  his  way, 

To  dwell  with  us  no  more. 
No  jarring  did  he  feel. 
No  grating  on  his  vessel's  keel ; 
A  strip  of  yellow  sand 
Mingled  the  waters  with  the  land, 
Where  he  was  seen  no  more  : 
O  stern  word,  Never  more  ! 
Full  short  his  journey  was  ;  no  dust 

Of  earth  unto  his  sandals  clave  ; 
The  weary  weight  that  old  men  must, 

He  bore  not  to  the  grave. 
He  seem'd  a  cherub  who  had  lost  his  way 
And  wander'd  hither  :  so  his  stay 
With  us  was  short  :  and  'twas  most  meet 

That  he  should  be  no  delver  in  earth's  clod. 
Nor  need  to  pause  and  cleanse  his  feet 

To  stand  before  his  God. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY ^ 

'  The  Revolution/  remarks  Hallam,  '  did  nothing  for 
poetry.  William's  reign,  always  excepting  Dryden,  is 
our  nadir  in  works  of  imagination.'  ^  It  must  have 
seemed  to  many  as  if  English  poetry  had  almost  died 
with  the  death  of  Dryden  in  1701. 

Yet  the  very  first  year  as  we  should  commonly 
reckon  it,  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  distinguished 
by  a  very  notable  accession  to  the  treasures  of  sacred 
verse.  Bishop  Ken  (1637-1711)  first  published  his 
Mornings  Evenings  and  Midnight  Hymns  in  1700,  in 
the  seventh  edition  of  his  Manual  of  Prayer  for  Win- 
chester Scholars.  All  three  are  beautiful,  but  the  Mid- 
night Hymn — excluded  by  its  nature  from  all  con- 
gregational hymn-books,  and  therefore  not  so  popularly 
known — is  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  of  them  all.  The 
good  bishop  himself  used  daily,  immediately  upon 
rising,  to  sing  to  his  lute  his  Morning  Hymn.  He  was 
accustomed,  it  appears,  to  adapt  the  words  to  his  own 
tunes,  for  he  was  skilled  in  music,  and  his  compositions 
were  grave  and  solemn.  The  melody,  however,  to 
which  the  three  hymns  were  originally  printed,  and 
which  suffered  in  the  course  of  time  corruptions  which 
changed  its  very  structure,  was  Ravenscroft's  version 
of  Tallis's  eighth  tune.  It  will  be  found  in  the  first 
appendix  to  the  Life  of  Ken,  by  a  Lay?nan  (hond.  1853). 

Ken's  devotional  poems  were  very  numerous.  To 
make   and    sing   them   was   his   recreation    and    chief 

^  The  greater  part  of  this  Chapter  is  a  revised  reprint  of  an  Essay  in  the 
I  si  ed.  of  Abbey  and  Overton's  Etiglish  Church  in  the  Eighteenth  Century. 
^  Hallam's  Literature  of  Europe,  vol.  vi.  p.  440. 
30S 


Religious  Thought  in  Old  English  Verse    309 

delight ;  his  anodyne  ^  in  seasons  of  wearying  pain  ;  his 
comfort  through  many  a  sleepless  night  The  night- 
ingale warbling  in  the  darkness  troubles  itself  well-nigh 
as  little  about  what  listening  men  may  think  of 
its  song,  as  Ken  of  the  impression  which  his  hymns 
might  leave  upon  the  ears  of  critics.  'His  poems,'  as 
Keble  truly  says,  '  are  not  popular,  nor  probably  ever 
will  be.  .  .  .  The  narrative  is  often  cumbrous,  and  the 
lyric  verse  not  seldom  languid  and  redundant.'^  That 
simpler  style,  in  which  all  his  best  verses  are  written,  is 
constantly  interrupted  by  a  strained  and  artificial 
diction,  in  which  he  imitated  Cowley,  with  none  of 
Cowley's  brilliancy.  Ken  himself  was  not  blind  to 
their  faults.  More  than  once  he  says  he  was  inclined 
to  burn  them,  and  only  refrained  from  doing  so  in  the 
thought  that  verses  which  reflected  the  glow  and 
raptures  of  his  own  soul  might  kindle  other  hearts 
also. 

There  can  be  no  object  in  quoting  from  the  more 
prosaic  or  inharmonious  verses  which  he  often  wrote. 
Many,  however,  of  his  lines  are  very  beautiful. 

From  Hymns  on  the  Festivals  : — 

God  sweetly  calls  us  every  day, 
Why  should  we  then  our  bliss  delay  ? 

He  calls  to  endless  light, 

Why  should  we  love  the  night  ? 
Should  we  one  call  but  duly  heed. 
It  would  to  joys  eternal  lead.^ 

From  GocTs  Attributes  or  Perfections  : — 

God's  children  love  all  human  race 

In  whom  they  God's  dear  image  trace  ; 

More  likeness  they  attain, 

The  greater  love  they  gain  : 
Saints  in  whom  love  is  most  express'd 
Fraternal  charity  loves  best.* 

1  See  his  very  beautiful  verses  under  the  title  An  Anodyne  quoted  in 
Professor  Pal  grave's  Treasury  of  Sacred  Song. 

2  Quarterly  Review,  vol.  xxxii.  p.  230. 

^  Ken''s  Works,  i.  383.  The  poem  from  which  the  stanza  is  taken 
has  been  adapted  by  Bishop  W.  Walsham  How  into  an  admirable  hymn 
for  St.  Matthew's  Day.  ■*  Jd.  ii.  89. 


3IO  Religious  Thought  in 

From  Psyche-- 

My  God,  Thou  only  art 
Able  to  know,  keep,  rule  the  heart  ; 

O  make  my  heart  Thy  care. 
Which  I  myself  to  keep  despair. 
No  rebels  then  will  garrison  my  breast, 
Beneath  Almighty  wings  my  heart  will  live  at  rest  - 

Ken  thus  expresses  his  idea  of  a  Christian  pastor,  in 
the  first  Hnes  of  his  poem  under  that  head  : — 

Give  me  the  priest  these  graces  doth  possess 

Of  an  ambassador  the  just  address  ; 

A  fathers  tenderness,  a  shepherd's  care  ; 

A  leader's  courage,  which  the  cross  can  bear  ; 

A  ruler's  awe,  a  watchman's  wakeful  eye  ; 

A  pilot's  skill,  the  helm  in  storms  to  ply  ; 

A  fishers  patience,  and  a  labourer's  toil ; 

A  guide's  dexterity  to  disembroil  : 

A  prophet's  inspiration  froni  above  ; 

A  teachers  knowledge,  and  a  Saviours  love. 

The  following  is  a  couplet  which  Mr.  Godfrey 
Thring  has  inserted  in  his  ClmrcJi  of  England  Hynin- 
Book  : — 

Submit  yourself  to  God,  and  you  shall  find 
God  fights  the  battles  of  a  will  resign'd.*^ 

The  works  of  three  accomplished  women  may  next 
claim  notice. 

Lady  Chudleigh,  authoress  of  essays  which  obtained 
some  repute,  died  in  1710.  Her  poems  were  published 
in  1703,  and  a  third  edition  of  them  in  1722.  In  that 
entitled  77ie  Resolve^  we  may  trace  the  spirit  of  an  age 
in  which  religion  was  commonly  arrayed,  and  some- 
times disguised,  under  the  sober  garb  of  contemplations 
upon  reason  and  virtue. 

A  miscellany  of  poems  published  anonymously*  by 
the  Countess  of  Winchelsea  in  171 3,  would  scarcely 
call  for  remark  on  the  mere  account  of  the  two  or  three 
sacred    pieces    interspersed    among    its    fables,    moral 

^  Kelt's  Works,  iv.  201.  -  Appendix,  Hyiinis  for  Private  Use,  43. 

*  Quoted  in  Al.  Dyce's  Specimens  of  British  Poetesses,  129. 

*  Miscellany  Poems  on  several  Occasions,  written  by  a  Lady,  17 13. 


Old  English  Verse  3 1 1 

apologues,  pastorals  and  Pindaric  odes.  It  contains  the 
story  not  unfrequently  found  in  selections,  and  put  a 
second  time  into  verse  by  Hannah  More,  of  the  atheist 
and  the  acorn.^  There  is  a  paraphrase  of  the  148th 
Psalm,-  written  with  much  spirit,  and  appended  to  a 
poem  on  the  famous  hurricane — unparalleled  in  our 
latitudes — of  1703.  But  her  special  title  to  notice  rests 
almost  entirely  upon  a  poem  which  has  only  an  indirect 
bearing-,  though  not  an  unimportant  one,  upon  that 
class  of  sacred  poetry  which  finds  its  chief  material  in 
the  more  spiritual  aspects  of  outward  nature.  Words- 
worth observes  of  her  Nocturnal  Reverie  that,  with  the 
exception  of  a  passage  or  two  in  the  Windsor  Forest  of 
Pope,  it  is  the  only  poetry  of  the  period  intervening 
between  the  publication  of  the  Paradise  Lost  and  The 
Seasons,  in  which  external  phenomena  were  contem- 
plated with  any  originality  or  genuine  imagination.^ 

The  name  of  Elizabeth  Rowe  (1676-1737)  stands  high 
among  the  writers  of  sacred  poetry  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  She  w^as  daughter  of  a  Mr.  Singer,  a  Dissent- 
ing minister  of  good  family  and  competent  fortune, 
w^ho  once  suffered  imprisonment  for  Nonconformity, 
and  was  living  in  William  lll.'s  reign  at  Ilchester. 
Her  earlier  poems  w^ere  published  in  1696  under  the 
title  of  Philomela  :  a  name  w-hich  soon  became  familiar, 
if  not  to  the  general  throng^  which  haunted  the  literary 
*coffee-houses,  at  least  to  all  lovers  of  high-toned  religious 
poetry.  Both  in  her  poetical  and  devotional  writings 
there  is  a  fervour  which  sometimes  almost  transgresses 
the  bounds  of  sober  piety,  and  which,  in  an  age  abhorrent 
of  '  enthusiasm,'  was  looked  upon  with  much  suspicion 
even  by  those  who  most  admired  her  talents.  '  Some 
of  her  expressions,'  says  Watts,  who  edited,  very  soon 


^  Miscellany  Poems,  etc.  202. 
-  Id.  248.. 

^  Wordsworth's  '  Essay  Supplementary  to  Preface,'  Poet.  Works,  v.  213. 
^  '  Meets  Philomela  in  the  town 
Her  due  proportion  of  renown  ?  ' 
Lady  Winchelsea's  Poems.  'The  Miser  and  the  Poet,'  Miscellany,  148. 


3 1  2  Religious  Thought  in 

after  her  death,  her  Devout  Exercises  of  the  Heart,  '  are 
a  Httle  too  rapturous  and  too  near  akin  to  the  language 
of  the  mystical  writers.'  ^  '  The  reader  will  here  find  a 
spirit  dwelling  in  flesh  elevated  into  divine  transports 
congenial  to  those  of  angels  and  unbodied  minds.'  ^ 

Her  character  appears  to  have  been  one  of  much 
beauty.  Her  letters  convey  the  idea  of  a  bright  and 
happy  temperament.  Half  her  property  was  dedicated 
to  beneficent  purposes,^  and  her  poorer  neighbours 
always  found  in  her  a  most  kindly  friend  ;  while  her 
amiable  disposition  and  accomplished  mind  rendered 
her  society  courted  in  the  best  circles.*  Her  piety, 
wholly  free  from  Puritan  moroseness,  was  controlled 
and  kept  in  balance  without  losing  any  of  its  impas- 
sioned ardour.  It  is  interesting,  too,  to  see  in  her  the 
intimate  friend  of  two  good  men  so  widely  different 
from  one  another  as  Bishop  Ken  and  Dr.  Watts. 

Perhaps  the  poem  which,  both  in  its  beauties  and 
defects,  is  most  characteristic  of  this  author,  is  A  Hymn 
in  imitation  of  Ca7iticles  V-  VII.  Southey  has  on  this 
account  selected  it  for  quotation  in  his  book  on  the 
Later  English  Poets^  It  should  be  remembered  that 
a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  as  in  the  preced- 
ing periods,  the  religious  significance  of  the  Book  of 
Canticles  was  far  more  frequently  dwelt  upon  in  sermons 
and  in  religious  works  generally  than  has  been  the  case 
in  later  years. 

Ye  pure  inhabitants  of  light, 

Ye  virgin  minds  above. 
That  feel  the  sacred  violence, 
The  mighty  force  of  love  ! 

By  all  your  boundless  joys,  by  all 

Your  love  to  human  kind, 
I  charge  you  to  instruct  me  where 

My  absent  Lord  to  find. 

^  Devout  Exercises  of  the   Heart,   by  Mrs.   Rowe,   ed.    by  Dr.   Isaac 
Watts,  second  ed.,  1737,  Dedication. 
-  Id.  Preface  by  Watts,  xiii. 
3   Works  hi  Prose  and  Verse,  etc. ,  i.  Ixxvii. 
■*  Watts'  Preface  to  Devout  Exercises,  xviii. 
'  Southey's  Later  English  Poets,  i.  349. 


Old  English  Verse  313 

I  '"ve  search'd  the  pleasant  hills  and  vales, 

And  climb'd  the  hills  around, 
But  no  glad  tidings  of  my  love 

Among  the  swains  have  found. 

I  Ve  oft  invoked  him  in  the  shades. 

By  every  stream  and  rock  ; 
The  rocks,  the  streams,  and  echoing  shades 

My  vain  industry  mock. 

I  traced  the  city's  noisy  streets. 

And  told  my  love  aloud  ; 
But  no  intelligence  could  meet 

Among  the  thoughtless  crowd. 

I  Ve  search'd  the  temple  round,  for  there 

He  oft  has  blest  my  sight, 
And  half  unveil'd,  of  his  lovely  face 

Disclosed  the  heavenly  light. 

But  with  these  glorious  views  no  more 

I  feast  my  ravish'd  eyes  ; 
For  veil'd  with  interposing  clouds  ^ 

My  eager  search  he  flies. 

Oh,  could  I  in  some  desert  land 

His  sacred  footsteps  trace, 
I  'd  with  glad  devotion  kneel 

And  bless  the  sacred  place. 

Nor  stormy  winds  should  stay  my  course. 

Nor  unfrequented  shore, 
Nor  craggy  Alps,  nor  desert  wastes, 

Where  hungry  lions  roar. 

^  In  her  hymn,  '  In  vain  the  dusky  night,'  the  same  thought  is  well 
expressed  in  more  sober  language  : — 

*  When,  when  shall  I  behold  Thy  face 

All  radiant  and  serene, 
Without  these  envious,  dusky  clouds 

That  make  a  veil  between  ? 

'  W^hen  shall  that  long-expected  day 

Of  sacred  vision  be, 
When  my  impatient  soul  shall  make 

A  near  approach  to  Thee  ?  ' 

The  fervour  of  Mrs.   Rowe's  poetry  might  be  instanced  in  a  free  but  fine 
version  of  the  63d  Psalm,  beginning  : 

'  O  God,  my  first,  my  last,  my  steadfast  choice, 
My  boundless  bliss,  the  strength  of  all  my  joys.' 


3 1 4  Religious  Thought  in 

Through  ranks  of  interposing  death 

To  his  embrace  I'd  fly, 
And  to  enjoy  his  bHssful  smiles 

Would  be  content  to  die.^ 

Ralph  Thoresby  enters  into  his  diary  for  September 
loth,  1724,  that  he  had  been  'visited  by  that  noted 
poet,  Mr.  [Samuel]  Wesley  ^  (1666- 173 5).  Some 
mention  is  at  all  events  due  to  the  father  of  John  and 
Charles  Wesley,  in  his  character  as  a  writer  of  sacred 
poetry.  Though  his  father  and  grandfather  had  been 
successively  vicars  of  Charmouth,  he  was  brought  up, 
during  his  boyhood,  in  a  Nonconformist  academy.  He 
afterwards  became  a  staunch  High  Churchman,  a  friend 
of  Robert  Nelson  ^  and  other  leading  men  of  that  party, 
an  active  promoter  of  the  newly-founded  Church 
Societies,^  and  somewhat  over-eager  in  his  opposition 
to  Dissenters.^  He  declined  an  Irish  bishopric,  and 
became  rector,  first  of  South  Ormsby,  and  afterwards 
of  Epworth,  both  in  Lincolnshire.  His  son  Samuel, 
elder  brother  of  John  and  Charles,  in  a  poem  entitled 
TJie  Parish  Priest,  published  in  1736,  the  year  after  his 
father's  death,  has  left  an  affectionate  and  reverential 
tribute  to  his  memory  : — 

A  parish  priest,  not  of  the  pilgrim  kind,^ 
But  fix'd  and  faithful  to  the  post  assign'd  ; 
Through  various  scenes  with  equal  virtue  trod. 
True  to  his  oath,  his  order,  and  his  God. 

His  looks  the  tenour  of  his  soul  express. 

An  easy,  unaffected  cheerfulness, 

Steadfast  not  stiff,  and  awful  not  austere, 

Tho'  courteous,  reverend,  and  tho'  smooth,  sincere, 

In  converse  free,  for  every  subject  fit, 

The  coolest  reason  joined  to  keenest  wit.'' 

^   Works,  etc.  i.  131.  ^  R.  Thoresby 's  Diary,  ii.  413 

'  C.  Y.  '^qcxqX.zxC?,  Life  of  Nelson,  loi. 

^  G.  G.  Perry,  Hist,  of  the  Church  of  England,  iii.  91. 

^  Letter  of  S.  Wesley  to  Hearne,  Rcliq.  Hcarniana,  40. 

^  This  almost  seems  to  hint  at  his  brother,  who  had  just  started  for 
Georgia. 

^  Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  by  S.  Wesley,  Master  of  Blundell's 
School,  Tiverton,  etc.,  1736,  pp.  66-72. 


Old  E7iglish  Verse  3 1 5 

He  tells  that  he  was  '  a  guardian  angel  to  the  sick 
and  poor,  that  there  was  not  a  Dissenter  or  a  Papist  in 
his  parish,  that  he  refused  to  read  King  James's  Declar- 
ation, though  expecting  to  be  deprived  for  it,  and  that 
he  was  an  indefatigable  searcher  after  truth.'  ^  This 
worthy  clergyman  was  a  voluminous  writer  of  sacred 
poetry.  His  principal  work  was  an  heroic  poem,  in  ten 
books  upon  The  Life  of  Christ,  published  in  1693.^  It 
was  received  at  the  time  with  much  applause.  Nahum 
Tate  bowed  from  the  laureate  throne,  upon  which  he 
had  just  ascended,  and  feigned  with  proud  humility 
that  his  own  glories  would  by  comparison  grow  dim  : 

Even  we,  the  tribe  who  thought  ourseh^es  inspired, 
Like  ghmmering  stars  in  night's  dull  reign  admired. 
Like  stars,  a  numerous  but  a  feeble  host, 
Are  gladly  in  your  morning  lustre  lost.^ 

Luke  Milbourne,  also  a  translator  of  the  Psalms,  was 
no  less  effusive  in  his  praise.  But  Pope  makes  Mil- 
bourne  chief  flamen  in  his  empire  of  dulness,  and  puts 
into  his  mouth  the  dictum  that  '  Dulness  is  sacred  in  a 
sound  divine.'^  Perhaps,  therefore,  the  praises  of  Mil- 
bourne  and  of  Nahum  Tate  may  not  be  altogether  in- 
consistent with  an  opinion  that  Samuel  Wesley's  sacred 
heroics  are  tedious  and  prosaic.  The  book,  however, 
brought  its  author  for  the  time  into  considerable  note. 
Poetry  was  just  then,  with  few  exceptions,  at  a  very 
low  ebb ;  and  encomiums  were  often  freely  lavished 
upon  verses  which  would  by  no  means  satisfy  a  higher 
standard  of  poetical  taste.  And  independently  of  its 
merits,  whatever  they  might  be,  as  a  composition,  a 
synoptical  view  of  the  Gospels,  in  a  new  form,  and 
amply  furnished  with  Scripture  references,  worked  out  by 
a  man  of  no  mean  talent,  was  sure  to  deserve  and  obtain 
much  respectful  attention.  It  may  be  added  that  the 
work   was    brought   out    in    very    handsome    form,    in 

^  Poems  on  Sevej-al  Occasions,  by  S.  Wesley,  Dedication. 
2   The  Life  of  Christ,  by  S.  Wesley  :  an  Heroic  Poem,  1693. 
^  Prefixed,  with  other  complimentary  verses,  to  the  poem  in  the  edition 
referred  to.  ^  Pope's  Dunciad,  ii.  352. 


3i6  Religious  Thought  in 

folio,  illustrated  with  sixty  admirable  copperplates.  In 
1704  he  published  and  dedicated  to  Queen  Anne  a 
metrical  History  of  the  Old  and  Nezv  Testaments,  also 
richly  adorned  with  engravings.  The  poem  which  he 
described  as  '  the  last  effort  of  a  retiring  muse  '  ^  was  an 
elegy,  written  in  171 5,  upon  the  death  of  his  revered 
friend,  Robert  Nelson. 

Samuel  Wesley,  the  younger,  died  in  1739  only  four 
years  after  his  father.  After  leaving  Christ  Church  he 
was  second  master  for  twenty  years  at  his  old  school  of 
Westminster.  At  the  time  of  his  death  he  was  head- 
master of  the  Grammar  School  at  Tiverton.  He  shared 
the  poetical  tastes  common  to  his  two  brothers,  and 
published  in  1736  a  collection  of  poems  upon  a  variety 
of  secular  and  sacred  subjects.^  His  Battle  of  the  Sexes, 
founded  upon  one  of  Addison's  papers  in  the  Guardian, 
is  that  by  which  he  was  best  known.  It  is  called  by 
Alexander  Chalmers  '  a  noble  allegoric  poem.' ^  What 
he  wrote  was  sometimes  humorous,  but  always  pure 
and  healthy  in  tone.  Contemporary  authors  would, 
many  of  them,  have  done  well  to  remember  his  homely 
advice — 

If  e'er  to  writing  you  pretend, 

Your  utmost  aid  and  study  bend 

The  paths  of  virtue  to  befriend, 

However  mean  your  ditty  ; 

That  while  your  verse  the  reader  draws 
To  Reason  and  Religion's  laws. 
None  e'er  hereafter  may  have  cause 
To  curse  your  being  witty.** 

The  few  hymns  he  wrote  are  not  very  noteworthy, 
though  two  or  three  of  them,  occasionally  to  be  found 
in  selections,  contain  some  verses  which  would  have 
been  quite  worthy  of  his  brother  Charles. 

Sir  Richard  Blackmore  (1651-1729)  was  the  favourite 
butt  for  the  satire  of  the  wits  and  poets  of  his  day.     He 

^  Prefixed  to  some  editions  of  Nelson's  Practice  of  True  Devotion. 

-  Poems  on  Several  Occasions,  1736. 

2  Al.  Chalmers's  edition  of  Ihe  Guardian,  note  to  No.  152. 

*  From  Advice  to  One  ivko  was  about  to  Write  :   Poems,  etc. 


Old  English  Verse  3 1 7 

was  a  very  worthy  man,  most  anxious  to  promote 
the  interests  of  religion  and  virtue.  But  he  was  afflicted 
with  the  cacoethes  scribendi,  and  was  unhappily  pos- 
sessed with  the  idea  that  his  lucubrations  would  be 
more  effective  and  popular  if  they  took  a  metrical 
form.  All  the  spare  moments  of  the  estimable  knight, 
as  he  drove  from  one  patient  to  another,  appear  to  have 
been  dedicated  to  the  composition  of  verses  either  for  his 
next  epic  in  ten  books  or  for  his  version  of  the  Psalms, 
or  for  his  forthcoming  volume  of  didactic  poetry  upon 
sacred  and  philosophical  subjects.  Effusions  written,  as 
Dryden  said,  'to  the  rumbling  of  his  chariot  wheels,' 
and  bearing  for  the  most  part  scanty  marks  of  revision, 
were  very  frequently  a  legitimate  mark  for  the  ridicule 
with  which  Dryden,  Wycherley,  Philips,  Gay,  Swift, 
Pope,  and  a  host  of  others,  overwhelmed  each  new  pro- 
duction as  it  appeared  from  the  press. 

Yet  Blackmore  had  many  admirers,  and  among  them 
were  some  whose  opinions  are  always  worthy  of  respect. 
Addison,  at  the  conclusion  of  one  of  his  papers  on 
Milton,  called  special  attention  to  the  poem  (published 
in  1712)  on  Creation.  'The  work,'  he  said,  'was  under- 
taken with  so  good  an  intention,  and  is  executed  with 
so  great  a  mastery,  that  it  deserves  to  be  looked  upon 
as  one  of  the  most  useful  and  noble  productions  in  our 
English  verse.' ^  Dr.  Johnson  said  of  this  same  poem, 
that  '  if  he  had  written  nothing  else  it  would  have 
transmitted  him  to  posterity  among  the  first  favourites 
of  the  English  muse.'  ^  Locke  praised  him  ;  and  Dr. 
Watts  thought  that  the  success  achieved  by  him  had 
triumphantly  confuted  all  theories  of  the  impractic- 
ability of  a  worthy  treatment  in  English  poetry  of  Chris- 
tian subjects.^  Molineux,  a  friend  of  Locke,  even  went 
so  far  as  to  declare  that  '  all  our  English  poets  except 
Milton  have  been  ballad-makers  in  comparison  with 
him.'^    It  may  be  added  that  his  first  epic,  that  oi Prmce 


^  Spectator,  No.  339.  ^  I.  Watts'  Pref.  to  Horce  Lyriccz. 

2  Johnson's  Lives,  ii.  257.  ^  Hearne's  Reliquice,  iii.  163, 


3i8  Religious  Thought  in 

Arthur,  was   decidedly  popular,  passing   in  two  years 
through  three  editions. 

No  doubt  the  comparative  popularity  which  Black- 
more  attained  is  one  among  many  signs  of  the  decadence 
of  poetical  taste  which  had  set  in  soon  after  the  middle 
of  the  seventeenth  century.  His  style  is  almost  always 
heavy  and  careless.  Sometimes  he  becomes  insuffer- 
ably tedious  and  prosaic  ^  to  an  extent  which  more  than 
justified  the  keenest  banter  of  his  opponents.  Never- 
theless the  wits  did  not  do  him  justice.  They  had  no 
wish  to  be  fair  to  him.  He  had  inveighed  with  all 
his  might,  not  only  against  the  immoralities  of  the 
stage,  but  against  the  general  profanity  and  levity  on 
serious  or  sacred  subjects  which  so  frequently  disgraced 
the  literature  of  his  time.  And,  consequently,  he  made 
many  enemies  among  a  race  of  men  than  whom  none 
were  more  skilled  in  barbing  and  polishing  the  epi- 
grams which  sufficed  for  years  to  come  to  preserve 
his  name  to  ridicule.  Meanwhile,  his  works  were  not 
unvalued  by  a  different  class  of  readers.  The  poems 
which  proceeded  from  his  pen  supplied,  with  all 
their  faults,  a  deficiency  which  could  not  be  satisfied 
by  the  sharp-witted  writers  who  held  them  up  to 
scorn.  From  its  earliest  infancy  poetry  has  ever  been 
the  favourite  channel  through  which  the  diviner  faculty 
in  man  endeavours  to  find  utterance.  All  the  best 
poetry  in  the  world,  and  that  which  has  most  touched 
the  heart  of  men,  has  been  either  suffused  with  a 
certain  mystical  and  spiritual  element,  or,  at  all  events, 

^  What  gleam  of  poetic  feeling  could  be  anticipated  in  a  writer  who 
could  drone  as  follows  !  (The  passage  comes  from  his  Paraphrase  of  [ob, 
chap,  xiii.) 

Since  you  are  pleased  oft  to  enumerate 
God's  wise  and  mighty  works  in  this  debate, 
I  the  same  method  have  observed,  to  show 
That  I  his  wonders  know,  no  less  than  you. 
I  do  not  your  prolix  discourses  want, 
To  prove  those  truths  divine,  I  freely  grant. 

.Sir  R.  Blackmore's  Par-aphrases,  etc.,  ed.  1716,  p.  56. 

Some  of  his  paraphrases,  however,  as  that  of  the  103d  Psalm,  are  by  no 
means  wanting  in  spirit. 


Old  English  Verse  319 

has  appealed  to  the  deeper  strings  of  our  moral 
nature.  It  is  untrue  to  the  best  sources  of  its  inspira- 
tion if  it  is  content  for  long  together  merely  to  sport,  as 
it  were,  upon  the  surface  of  things  ;  still  more  so  if  it 
becomes  flippant,  unspiritual,  immoral.  During  the 
period  that  followed  upon  the  Restoration,  this  had  been 
notoriously  the  prevailing  character  of  English  verse. 
And  therefore  among  the  more  sober-minded  of  the 
educated  community  there  were  numbers  who  were 
heartily  ready  to  greet,  with  an  applause  much  more 
than  proportionate  to  its  intrinsic  worth,  a  more  healthy 
strain.  They  had  begun  to  awaken  to  the  surpassing 
merits  of  the  Paradise  Lost  \  and,  though  the  interval 
which  separated  a  Milton  from  a  Sir  Richard  Blackmore 
was  wide  beyond  all  comparison,  they  were  all  the 
better  able  to  appreciate  a  more  serious  and  reflective 
style  of  verse  than  they  had  of  late  been  used  to.  They 
could  welcome  a  very  pedestrian  muse  in  which  they 
discerned  sincerity  and  graver  thought,  in  preference  to 
one  clad  in  the  conventional  garments  and  flaunting 
colours  which  had  been  fashionable.  This  may  serve 
partly  to  explain  the  toleration  that  was  extended  to 
Blackmore's  dulness. 

His  writings  were  also  in  harmony  with  the  general 
tone  of  thought  which  was  being  gradually  formed  in 
reference  to  the  graver  subjects  of  human  contempla- 
tion. Poetry,  far  superior  to  his  in  spiritual  power  and 
in  imaginative  ability,  would  have  fallen  flat  upon  the 
ears  of  a  prosaic  generation  which  preferred  to  discuss 
its  relations  to  the  infinite  from  an  altogether  argu- 
mentative and  '  common  sense  '  point  of  view.  More- 
over, it  was  an  age  very  devoid  of  poetical  originality. 
Some  affected  to  follow  the  French  style  ;  some  made 
Pindar  their  model ;  some  Virgil  and  the  epic  poets  ; 
others  imitated  Horace.  As  for  Blackmore,  he  set 
himself  in  his  Creation  to  emulate  Lucretius  ^  in  the 
character  of  a  Christian  philosopher.     He  wished,  he 

^  Preface  to  his  poem  on  Creation. 


3  20  Religious  Thought  in 

said,  to  make  argument  agreeable,  and  to  adorn  it  with 
the  harmony  of  numbers;^  but  where  his  object  was 
mainly  to  instruct  and  reason,  the  ornaments  of  poetic 
eloquence  were  not  to  be  expected. 

I  think  the  following  verses  from  the  closing  part  of 
his  paraphrase  of  the  103d  Psalm  may  be  excepted 
from  the  general  condemnation  of  heaviness  : — 

And  all  ye  spirits  of  celestial  race, 
Who  far  mankind  in  strength  surpass, 
Who,  free  from  stain,  and  with  pure  ardour  warm, 
Your  Lord's  high  orders  perfectly  perform, 
Strike  your  blest  harps,  your  voices  raise  ; 
With  hallelujahs  fill  the  skies  around. 
Extol  your  God,  and  let  your  songs  of  praise 
From  all  your  azure  hills  and  crystal  towers  rebound  ! 
Let  all  His  wide  dominions  bless  the  Lord, 
Let  Him  by  every  creature  be  adored  ! 
My  soul,  extend  a  vigorous  wing  ; 
Ardent  to  heaven  direct  thy  flight. 
And,  mingling  rapture  with  the  seraphs,  sing 
Th'  eternal  triumphs,  and  exalt  His  might.*^ 

Few  names  connected  with  the  poetical  literature  of 
England  in  the  eighteenth  century  are  more  familiar 
than  that  of  Thomas  Parnell  (1679-17 17).  His  story  of 
The  Hermit  is  as  well  known  as  anything  in  the  English 
language.  Nor  is  its  popularity  in  any  way  un- 
deserved. Hume,  in  his  Essay  07t  Simplicity  and 
Refinement,  said,  in  reference  to  this  poem,  that  '  it  is 
sufficient  to  run  over  Cowley  once,  but  Parnell,  after 
the  fifteenth  reading,  is  as  fresh  as  at  the  first.' ^  His 
poetry  in  general  has  always  given  pleasure  by  the 
melody  of  its  diction,  and  its  polished  but  unaffected 
gracefulness.^      Parnell    was    a    clergyman,   a    man    of 

^  Preface  to  his  poem  on  Creation. 

2  Sir  R.  Blackmore's  Paraphrases^  1716,  p.  268. 

^  Quoted  in  Mitford's  Life  and  Works  of  Parnell,  p.  54. 

■*  Campbell  was  a  great  admirer  of  Parnell.  He  praised  the  '  correct 
equable  sweetness  .  .  .  the  select  choice  of  his  expression,  the  clearness 
and  keeping  of  his  imagery,  and  the  pensive  dignity  of  his  moral  feeling  : ' 
{Essay  on  English  Poets,  quoted  by  Cunningham  in  Johnson's  Lives, 
ii.  93).  'The  compass,'  he  elsewhere  says,  'is  not  extensive,  but  its 
tone  is  peculiarly  delighlful  :'  T.  Campbell,  Specimens  of  English  Poetry, 
iv.  62. 


Old  English  Verse  321 

warm,  impulsive  temperament  ;  too  fond,  it  was  said,  of 
social  indulgences  ;  but  generous,  benevolent,  and  a 
most  delightful  companion.  He  retained  to  the  last 
the  affectionate  attachment  of  Pope,  whose  friendships 
were  generally  capricious  and  somewhat  dangerous  ; 
and  his  intimate  acquaintance  was  much  valued  br- 
other eminent  men  of  literature,  such  as  Addison  and 
Steele,  Swift  and  Arbuthnot.  His  works,  which  were 
all  written  between  1706  and  his  death  in  17 17,  include 
a  fair  proportion  of  sacred  poems.  These — putting  out 
of  the  question  his  uninteresting  studies  of  Scripture 
characters — share  in  the  sweet  simplicity  which  gives 
the  charm  to  his  best  verses  on  other  subjects.  They 
bear  the  stamp  of  his  general  character ;  deficient  in 
depth  and  fulness,  but  susceptible  and  ardent.  His 
versification,  smooth  and  easy  as  it  is,  is  often  injured 
by  the  too  ready  admission  of  seven-syllable  lines 
among  those  of  eight. 

The  following  are  a  few  verses  from  his  Way  to 
Happiness : — 

For  He  forsook  His  own  abode 

To  meet  thee  more  than  half  the  road. 

He  laid  aside  His  radiant  crown, 

And  love  for  mankind  brought  Him  down 

To  thirst  and  hunger,  pain  and  woe, 

To  wounds,  to  death  itself  below  ; 

And  He,  that  suffered  there  alone 

For  all  the  world,  despises  none. 

To  bid  the  soul  that  "s  sick  be  clean. 

To  bring  the  soul  to  life  again, 

To  comfort  those  that  grieve  for  ill, 

Is  His  peculiar  goodness  still. ^ 

Matthew  Prior  (1664-172 1)  paraphrased  St.  Paul's 
description  of  charity  in  smooth  antithetical  verses 
quite  in  the  approved  style  of  the  period  when  he 
wrote,  good  in  their  way,  but  bearing  to  the  original 
much  the  same  relation  as  Pope's  Homer  to  Homer 
himself     For  example  : — 

Not  soon  pro\oked,  she  easily  forgives. 
And  much  she  suffers  as  she  much  believes : 

^  Parnell's  Poems  ;  Anderson's  British  Poets,  vol.  vii.  p.  59. 
X 


32  2  Religious  Thought  in 

Soft  peace  she  brings  wherever  she  arrives ; 
She  builds  our  quiet,  as  she  forms  our  lives, 
Lays  the  rough  paths  of  peevish  nature  even, 
And  opens  in  each  heart  a  little  heaven. 

His  Solomon  on  the  Vmiity  of  the  World,  a  poem  in 
blank  verse  in  three  books,  although  the  most  studied 
and  elaborate  of  all  his  productions,  is  very  unreadable. 
His  ode  on  the  words,  '  I  Am  that  I  Am/  written  when 
he  was  quite  a  young  man,  is  chiefly  notable  for  the 
falsetto  of  its  exaggerated  intellectual  humility — 

Then  down  with  all  thy  boasted  volumes,  down — 
Only  reserve  the  sacred  one  : 

words  which  would  have  come  consistently  from  the 
mouth  of  one  of  the  earlier  race  of  Particular  Baptists, 
but  were  very  absurd  and  unreal  as  spoken  by  Prior. 
There  is,  however,  real  force  and  earnestness  in  his 
Considerations  on  the  SS th  Psalm  : — 

Heavy,  O  Lord,  on  me  Thy  judgments  lie. 
Accurst  I  am,  while  God  rejects  my  cry. 
O'erwhelm'd  in  darkness  and  despair  I  groan  ; 
And  every  place  is  hell  ;  for  God  is  gone. 
O  Lord,  arise,  and  let  Thy  beams  control 
Those  horrid  clouds,  that  press  my  troubled  soul. 
Save  the  poor  wanderer  from  eternal  night, 
Thou  that  art  the  God  of  light. 

Downward  I  hasten  to  my  destined  place  ; 
There  none  obtain  Thy  aid  or  sing  Thy  praise. 
Soon  I  shall  lie  in  death's  deep  ocean  drown'd  : 
Is  mercy  there,  or  sweet  forgiveness  found? 
O  save  me  yet,  while  on  the  brink  I  stand  ; 
Rebuke  the  storm,  and  waft  my  soul  to  land. 
O  let  her  rest  beneath  Thy  wing  secure, 
Thou  that  art  the  God  of  power. 

Behold  the  prodigal  I  to  Thee  I  come, 
To  hail  my  Father,  and  to  seek  my  home, 
No  refuge  could  I  find,  nor  friend  abroad, 
Straying  in  vice,  and  destitute  of  God. 
O  let  Thy  terrors  and  my  anguish  end  I 
Be  Thou  my  refuge,  and  Idc  Thou  my  friend  I 
Receive  the  son  Thou  didst  so  long  reprove, 
Thou  that  art  the  God  of  love.^ 

^  Parnells  Poeiiis,  3S9. 


Old  English  Verse  323 

An  Ode  to  the  Creator,  by  John  Hughes  (1677- 1720), 
one  of  the  contributors  to  the  Spectator,  has  sometimes 
been  highly  praised.  But  there  is  far  too  much  in  it  of 
the  grand,  conventional  style,  too  much  straining  after 
effect,  too  much  self-consciousness  on  the  part  of  the 
writer.  It  is  very  unequal  in  depth  of  thought  and 
feeling  to  a  poem  from  which  he  has  evidently  borrowed 
several  of  his  ideas,  that  of  Norris  On  the  Creation.  A 
similar  remark  may  be  made  of  The  Ecstacy,  the  prin- 
cipal idea  of  which  closely  resembles  that  which  the 
author  just  named  has  embodied  in  The  Elevation. 
Both  imagine  the  soul  passing  in  rapturous  contempla- 
tion through  infinities  of  space  upward  to  the  presence 
of  God.  There  is  a  stanza  in  Hughes  not  wanting  in  a 
certain  kind  of  grandeur  : — 

And  lo  I  again  the  nations  downward  fl\', 

And  wide-stietch'd  kingdoms  perish  from  my  eye. 

Heaven  1  what  bright  visions  now  arise  I 
WTiat  opening  worlds  my  ravish'd  sense  surprise  I 
I  pass  cserulean  gulfs,  and  now  behold 
New  solid  globes  their  weight,  self-balanced,  bear, 
•  Unpropt  amid  the  fluid  air, 

And  all  around  the  central  sun  in  circling  eddies  roll'd. 

And  now  once  more  I  downward  cast  my  sight, 

When  lo  I  the  earth,  a  larger  moon,  displays 

Far  off,  amid  the  heavens,  her  silver  face. 

And  to  her  sister  moon  by  turns  gives  light  1 

Her  seas  are  shadowy  spots,  her  land  a  milky  white.^ 

Compare  this  with  Norris  : — 

Take  wing,  my  soul,  and  upward  bend  thy  flight 
To  thy  originary  fields  of  light. 

Here's  nothing,  nothing  here  below 

That  can  deserve  thy  longer  stay  ; 

A  secret  whisper  bids  thee  go 
To  purer  air,  and  beams  of  native  day. 
Th'  ambition  of  the  tow'ring  lark  outvie 
And,  like  him,  sing  as  thou  dost  upwards  fly. 

How  all  things  lessen  which  my  soul  before 
Did  with  the  grovelling  multitude  adore  ! 

1  '  Ode  to  the  Creator : '  J.  Hughes'  Poems,  Anderson,  British  Poets ^ 
vol.  vii.  p.  330. 


324  Religious  Thought  in 

Those  pageant  glories  disappear 

Which  charm  and  dazzle  mortals'  eyes  : 

How  do  I  in  this  higher  sphere, 

How  do  I  mortals  with  their  joys  despise  I 

Pure  uncorrupted  element  I  breathe, 

And  pity  their  gross  atmosphere  beneath. ^ 

Both  are  fine.  But  there  is  a  spiritual  power  in  the 
Christian  Platonism  of  Norris,  which  is  deficient  in  the 
more  material  conceptions  of  Hughes.  To  unite  with 
the  ideal  notion  of  the  ecstatic  flight  of  the  soul,  '  a  short 
view  of  the  heavens  according  to  the  modern  philosophy,' 
was  a  combination  which  needed  a  more  masterly  hand 
than  his  to  treat  successfully. 

A  Hymn  to  Darkness,  by  Yalden,  a  Jacobite  clergy- 
man of  the  earlier  part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  has 
sometimes  been  praised.  It  is,  however,  little  more 
than  an  adaptation  from  a  finer  poem  by  Norris. 

The  following  verses  by  Elizabeth  Thomas  (1675- 
1730),  the  Corinna  of  Dryden,  are  of  some  interest,  both 
in  themselves  and  from  the  circumstances  under  which 
they  were  written.  She  had  been  brought  up  a  rigid 
Calvinist.  But  reflection  on  the  inscrutable  mysteries 
of  predestination  and  free-will  perplexed  and  distressed 
her.  When  Burnet's  Exposition  of  the  Articles  was  in 
the  press,  in  the  last  year  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
she  waited  eagerly  for  its  publication,  hoping  to  find  in 
it  some  solution  of  her  difficulties.  It  was  with  great 
disappointment  that  she  found  there  little  more  than  an 
impartial  statement  of  different  opinions.  The  lines 
here  quoted,  which  she  very  often  afterwards  repeated 
to  herself  to  confirm  and  tranquillise  her  faith,  were 
thereupon  written  as  the  expression  of  a  resignation  to 
which  she  only  attained  after  much  mental  struggle  and 
many  self-reasonings :  — 

Ah  !  strive  no  more  to  know  what  fate 
Is  preordained  for  thee  : 

"Tis  vain  in  this  my  mortal  state, — 
For  Heaven's  inscrutable  decree 
Will  only  be  revealed  in  vast  Eternity. 

^  J.  Norris 's  Poems,  loi. 


Old  English  Verse  325 

Then,  O  my  soul  I 
Remember  thy  celestial  birth, 
And  live  to  Heaven  while  here  on  earth  : 

Thy  God  is  infinitely  true — 

All  justice,  yet  all  mercy  too. 
To  Him,  then,  through  thy  Saviour  pray 
For  grace  to  guide  thee  on  thy  way. 

And  give  thee  will  to  do. 
But  humbly,  for  the  rest,  my  soul  1 
Let  Hope  and  Faith  the  limits  be 
Of  thy  presumptuous  curiosity.^ 

The  hymns  which  Joseph  Addison  (1672-17 19)  wrote 
are  marked  alike  by  the  pure  and  tranquil  tone  of  his 
piety,  and  by  the  polished  simplicity  of  his  style.  On 
either  of  these  accounts,  however,  they  have  sometimes 
been  thought  unsatisfactory  by  one  or  another  class  of 
readers.  Although  elevation,  and  even  fervour  of 
religious  feeling,  is  by  no  means  wanting  in  them,  they 
have  sometimes  been  complained  of,^  as  by  Wesley  and 
his  followers,  as  deficient  in  what  they  have  called 
'  unction.'  On  the  other  ground,  the  simplicity  of  their 
language  often  seemed  like  mere  plainness  to  tastes 
which  had  been  used  to  a  more  adorned  and  lyrical 
style  of  poetry.  To  be  properly  appreciated,  they 
should  be  read  as  when  they  first  appeared,  during  the 
summer  and  autumn  of  171 2,  in  the  Saturday  numbers 
of  the  Spectator.  The  delightful  little  homilies  by  which 
they  were  introduced,  and  of  which  they  formed  a  part, 
throw  a  clearer  light  both  upon  their  general  character, 
and  upon  the  impression  they  left  upon  the  public 
mind.  In  the  first,^  headed  by  the  familiar  lines  from 
Horace — 

Si  fractus  illabatur  orbis, 
Impavidum  ferient  ruinae — 

Addison  discourses  to  his  readers  on  the  fearless  and 
cheerful  confidence  with  which  a  good  man,  amid  the 
cares  and   accidents  of  life,   reposes  in  the  love  and 

^  Dyce's  British  Poetesses^  1 56. 

2  Cf.  C.  B.  Pearson  in  Oxford  Essays  (1858),  p.  142. 

^  Spectator.,  No.  441. 


326  Religious  Thought  in 

wisdom  of  an  Almighty  helper.  The  hope,  the  patience, 
the  manful  spirit,  which  such  trust  inspires,  is  truly  its 
own  reward,  independently  of  the  duty  of  faith  and  the 
supernatural  blessing-  which  accompanies  it.  Above 
all,  'When  the  soul  is  hovering  in  the  last  moments  of 
its  separation,  when  it  is  just  entering  on  another  state 
of  existence,  to  converse  with  scenes  and  objects  and 
companions  that  are  altogether  new, — what  can 'support 
her  under  such  tremblings  of  thought,  such  fears,  such 
anxiety,  such  apprehensions,  but  the  casting  of  all  her 
cares  upon  Him  who  first  gave  her  being,  who  has  con- 
ducted her  through  one  stage  of  it,  and  will  always  be 
with  her,  to  guide  and  comfort  her  in  her  progress 
through  eternity?'  And  then  remarking  how  beautifully 
this  reliance  upon  God  is  represented  by  David  in  the 
23rd  Psalm,  he  concludes  the  paper  by  his  well-known 
version  of  it,  '  The  Lord  my  pasture  shall  prepare.' 

The  second  ^  is  upon  gratitude — no  difficult  virtue, 
but  one  in  which  every  generous  mind  feels  pleasure. 
But  if  so,  it  should  exalt  the  soul  to  rapture,  when  em- 
ployed upon  the  great  object  of  all  gratitude,  the  Giver 
of  all  our  blessings.  Greek  and  Latin  poets  constantly 
employed  their  talents  in  celebrating  the  praises  of 
their  deities  ;  yet  '  our  idea  of  the  Supreme  Being  is 
infinitely  more  great  and  noble  than  what  could  possibly 
enter  into  the  heart  of  a  heathen.'  The  Jews  have  set 
us  a  magnificent  example  of  divine  poetry  ;  he  could 
wish  the  Christian  world  would  follow  it.  He  then 
gives  his  readers  the  hymn  beginning,  '  When  all  Thy 
mercies,  O  my  God  ! ' 

The  third  ^  is  upon  the  means  to  be  used  for  the 
strengthening  of  faith.  His  first  recommendation  is, 
that  when  by  reading  a  discourse  a  person  is  thoroughly 
convinced  of  the  truth  of  any  doctrine,  and  the  reason- 
ableness of  belief  in  it,  he  should  never  afterwards  suffer 
himself  to  call  it  in  question.  It  is  an  axiom  in  all 
science  not  to  keep  re-examining  principles  or  argu- 


Spectator,  No.  453.  -'  Id.  No.  465. 


Old  English  Verse  327 

ments,  upon  the  truth  of  which  we  have  once  been 
satisfied  ;  in  reHgion  it  is  a  necessary  rule  to  prevent 
perpetual  vacillation  and  perplexity.  When  Latimer 
grew  old  he  could  no  longer  trust  his  memory  for 
reasons,  but  was  wisely  content  to  repeat  before  his 
questioners  the  articles  of  the  faith  in  which  he  had  long 
before  made  up  his  mind  to  live  and  die.  He  advises, 
however,  secondly,  that  they  who  are  competent  to  do 
so  should  always  keep  in  memory,  ready  at  hand,  the 
arguments  that  had  appeared  strongest  to  them. 
Thirdly,  he  dwells  upon  the  mutual  strength  which 
faith  and  the  active  practice  of  morality  derive  from 
one  another.  Fourthly,  and  above  all,  he  insists  upon 
the  power  of  habitual  adoration.  '  The  devout  man 
does  not  only  believe,  but  feels  there  is  a  Deity.  He 
has  actual  sensations  of  Him.'  Lastly  he  discourses  on 
the  value  of  retirement,  and  of  the  contemplations  of 
God  in  the  power  and  wisdom  of  His  works.  After 
citing,  in  reference  to  this,  a  remarkable  passage  from 
Aristotle,  he  repeats  the  Psalmist's  words,  '  The  heavens 
declare  the  glory  of  God,'  and  concludes  with  his  hymn, 
beginning  'The  spacious  firmament  on  high.'^ 

In  the  fourth,-  alluding  to  a  previous  paper,  in  which 
greatness  had  been  spoken  of  as  a  principal  element  in 
stirring  the  imagination,  he  remarks  how  often  his 
imagination  had  been  kindled,  and  ideas  of  the  glorious 
majesty  of  God  suggested  to  him,  by  the  vastness  and 
grandeur  of  the  sea,  even  in  a  calm,  still  more  when 
heaving  with  a  tempest.  He  had  read  many  accounts 
in  the  old  poets  of  storms  at  sea,  but  none,  to  his  mind, 
were  equal  in  sublimity  to  that  in  the  Psalm  which  tells 
of  those  who  see  the  works  of  the  Lord  and  his  wonders 
on   the  deep.     Nor  did   he  speak  without  experience. 


^  Dr.  Johnson  was  exceedingly  fond  of  this  hymn,  and  used  to  repeat 
it  with  a  face  beaming  with  enthusiasm.  Hartley  Coleridge  liked  it  the 
least  of  Addison's  hymns.  '  I  cannot  away,'  he  said,  'with  the  "spangles" 
and  the  "shining  frame."  They  remind  me  of  tambour  work.  Perhaps 
if  I  had  never  read  the  P>alm,  I  might  think  the  verses  fine.' — Essays  and 
Marginalia,  ii.  71.  2  Spectator^  No.  489. 


328  Religious  Thought  i?i 

He  had  felt  the  blessing  of  faith  and  prayer  amid  the 
terrors  of  a  great  storm.  The  hymn  that  follows — 
'  How  are  Thy  servants  blessed,  O  Lord,'  '  made  by  a 
gentleman  at  the  conclusion  of  his  travels,'  was  the 
expression  of  his  own  devout  gratitude  on  the  occasion 
when  he  narrowly  escaped  from  shipwreck  off  the  Coast 
of  Liguria. 

The  last  ^  of  the  five  papers,  in  which  Addison  clothed 
a  part  of  his  meditations  in  sacred  verse,  is  shaped  in 
the  form  of  a  letter  from  the  worthy  clergyman  who 
had  been  represented  as  one  of  that  circle  of  intimate 
friends  of  which  the  *  Spectator '  himself.  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley,  and  Will  Honeycomb  were  principal  mem- 
bers. He  has  been,  he  says,  and  still  is  seriously  ill, 
and  his  thoughts  are  often  employed  in  meditating  on 
the  great  change  to  which  he  feels  that  he  may  be 
drawing  near.  He  quotes,  at  length,  a  striking  passage 
from  Sherlock's  Treatise  on  Death  ;  and  then,  dwelling 
in  a  few  impressive  words  on  his  Christian  faith  being 
his  one  only  support,  he  adds  the  hymn  which  he  had 
composed  during  his  sickness,  *  When  rising  from  the 
bed  of  death.' 

It  will  be  readily  understood  that  the  effect  and 
popularity  of  Addison's  hymns  were  immensely  en- 
hanced by  the  manner  in  which  they  appeared.  Dr. 
Drake,  in  his  edition  of  The  English  Essayists  of  the 
Last  Century^  quotes  the  remark  of  a  contemporary 
writer,  that  *  all  the  pulpit  discourses  of  a  year  scarce 
produced  half  the  good  as  flowed  from  the  Spectator  of 
one  day.'  Extreme  as  this  over-statement  is — as  the 
suppression  of  all  preaching  for  a  few  months  would 
have  quickly  shown — no  doubt  there  was  much  truth  in 
it,  so  far  as  regarded  a  very  great  number  of  the  readers 
of  the  Spectator.  We  are  told  by  Budgell  that  20,000 
numbers  were  sometimes  sold  in  one  day  ;  and  as  each 
paper  passed  on  an  average  through  several  hands,  the 
circulation  must  be  considered  as  something  wholly  un- 


^  spectator.  No.  513. 


Old  English  Verse  329 

paralleled  in  that  age.  Thoughts  upon  religion  as  well 
as  upon  morality,  treated  in  a  popular  and  attractive 
form,  were  brought  into  the  homes  and  to  the  hearts  of 
thousands  who  had  long  been  comparative  strangers  to 
such  reflections.  There  cannot  be  the  least  doubt  that 
Addison's  hymns,  introduced  as  they  were  so  aptly,  and 
in  terms  so  well  fitted  to  appeal  to  the  deeper  feelings  of 
Englishmen,  clung  to  the  memory  of  admiring  readers 
to  a  greater  extent  than  could  have  been  expected  from 
their  intrinsic  merit. 

That  merit,  however,  is  by  no  means  inconsiderable. 
They  were  never  meant  for  congregational  singing,  and 
though  some  of  them  are  often  found  in  collections 
intended  for  this  purpose,  they  are,  with  an  exception,^ 
out  of  place  there.  But  there  is  none  the  less  a  deep  vein 
in  them  of  pure  and  devout  piety.  Mr.  George  Mac- 
donald,  while  acknowledging  the  charm  which  he  finds 
in  that  hymn,  especially  of  *  The  spacious  firmament  on 
high,'  fancies  nevertheless  that  he  sees  in  it  *a  sign  of 
the  poetic  times  :  a  flatness  of  spirit,  arising  from  the 
evanishment  of  the  mystical  element,  begins  to  result  in 
a  worship  of  power.'  The  hymn,  he  adds,  is  good,  yet 
'  like  the  loveliness  of  the  red  and  lowering  west,  it 
gives  sign  of  a  grey  and  cheerless  dawn,  under  whose 
dreariness  the  child  will  first  doubt  if  his  father  loves 
him,  and  next  doubt  if  he  has  a  father  at  all,  and  is  not 
a  mere  foundling  that  nature  has  lifted  from  her  path.'  "^ 
There  would  have  been  more  force  in  these  remarks, 
suggestive  as  they  are,  if  Addison  had  written  no  other 
hymns  than  that  which  Mr.  Macdonald  has  mainly  in 
his  mind.  It  is  true  that  in  all  his  writings  there  is  a 
certain  sobriety  and  reserve  in  his  treatment  of  devo- 
tional subjects  which  not  unfrequently  gives  almost  an 
appearance  of  frigidity.  Thus,  God  is  nearly  always 
spoken  of  as  'the  Supreme  Being.'      This  was  owing 


^  Some  verses  from  '  When  all  Thy  mercies '  make  an  excellent  hymn, 
which  may  yet  become  quite  popular  in  public  worship. 
-  England'' s  Antiphon,  279. 


2,S^  Religious  Thought  in 

partly  to  the  general  character  of  the  papers  among 
which  they  appeared,  but  in  great  measure  also  to  the 
tone  of  Addison's  mind.  And  yet  it  is  perfectly  clear 
that  he  was  as  strongly  persuaded  of  the  reality  of  that 
immediate  intuition  of  God  on  the  part  of  the  believer, 
which  is  the  root  principle  of  all  mysticism,  and  of  a 
direct  Divine  influence  upon  the  soul,  as  those  who 
have  expressed  the  same  belief  in  the  most  rapturous 
terms  of  enthusiasm.^  The  poetical  motto,  which  is 
intended  to  sound  the  keynote  of  the  Essay  in  which 
the  last  of  his  hymns  is  introduced,  is  the  line  from 
Virgil— 

Afflata  est  niimine  quan'do 
Jam  propiore  Dei, 

with  Dryden's  translation  of  it, 

When  all  the  god  came  rushing  on  her  soul. 

Nor  could  the  sense  of  a  direct  contact  of  the  spirit  of 
man  with  Deity  be  more  earnestly  expressed  than  in 
those  two  fine  lines  in  which  he  called  to  mind  his  com- 
munion with  a  higher  Power  in  an  hour  of  great  peril : — 

Whilst  in  the  confidence  of  prayer. 
My  soul  took  hold  on  Thee. 

A  passing  reference  is  due  to  the  famous  soliloquy  in 
Cato.  It  may  rank  with  sacred  poetry,  as  worthily  as 
the  comparative  purification  of  the  stage  which  Addi- 
son's influence  effected  is  worthy  to  be  classed  among 
his  best  deeds  as  a  Christian  moralist. 

Alexander  Pope  (1688- 1744)  was  onl}^  to  a  very 
limited  extent  a  writer  of  sacred  poetry  in  the  stricter 
meaning  of  the  expression.  'Vital  spark  of  heavenly 
flame,'  the  ambition  of  village  choirs  in  old  days,^  was 
written  in  17 12.  He  had  commented  in  a  letter  to 
Steele  ••  on  the  well-known  Animula^  vagtila,  etc.,  of 
Hadrian,  and  was  requested  in  return  to  compose  an 
ode  upon  them,  in  two  or  three  stanzas,  which  might 

*  Cp.  Al.  Knox,  Remains^  iii.  343. 

2  C.  B.  Pearson  in  Oxford  Essays  {\%<^%),  p.  161.        ^  Spectator,  No.  532. 


Old  English  Verse  331 

be  set  to  music.^  Pope  complied,  borrowing  largely 
from  the  Thought  of  Death,  by  Flatman,  a  barrister, 
poet,  and  painter,  who  had  died  in  1688,  the  year 
Pope  was  born."2  The  verses  from  v/hich  the  original 
idea  was  taken  had  been  curiously  characteristic  of 
the  dying  emperor,  the  conflicting  elements  in  whose 
varied  character — '  his  earnestness  and  his  levity,  his 
zeal  for  knowledge  and  frivolity  in  appreciating  it,  his 
patient  endurance  and  restless  excitability'^ — are  all 
reflected  in  the  lines  with  which  he  beguiled  the  later 
moments  of  a  painful  and  lingering  malady.  Pope's  ode 
cannot  be  called  even  a  free  paraphrase  of  the  words 
by  which  it  was  suggested  ;  it  is  simply  a  rendering  of 
the  general  idea  in  a  Christian  sense.  Yet  it  retains 
a  good  deal  of  the  artificial  tone  which-  was  perhaps 
almost  inevitable  in  transferring,  even  with  great  altera- 
tions, to  a  Christian,  in  his  most  solemn  hour,  words 
so  deeply  stamped  with  the  thought  and  special  char- 
acter of  the  dying  Roman.  It  is,  however,  by  no  means 
unworthy  of  the  repute  it  gained. 

The  sacred  eclogue,  entitled  the  Messiah,  appeared 
first  in  the  Spectator  for  May  14,  17 12.  More  authors 
than  one^  have  remarked  upon  what  has  been  aptly 
called  its  '  flamboyant '  style,  by  which  it  contrasts  most 
unfavourably  with  the  sublime  simplicity  of  Isaiah. 
Wordsworth  refers  to  it  as  a  special  example  of '  what 
is  usually  called  poetic  diction,'  as  compared  with  the 
genuine  language  of  poetry.^ 

Pope's  rendering  of  St.  Francis  Xavier's  prayer  comes 
with  a  sort  of  incongruity  in  the  middle  of  his  poems. 
It  is  as  follows  : — 

Thou  art  my  God,  sole  object  of  my  love — 
Not  for  the  hope  of  endless  joys  above  ; 

1  Miller's  On  Hymns,  quoted  in  Y .  Saunders's  Evenings  with  the 
Sacred  Poets,  290.  -  Id. 

^  C.  Merivale's  Hist,  of  the  Romans  under  the  Empire  (1862),  vii.  490. 

*  F.  Saunders's  Evenings,  etc.,  291  ;  G.  ^l-aLC^QXi^Xdi! %  England s  Anti- 
phon,  285. 

^  W.  Wordsworth,  Appendix  to  Poems  on  Poetic  Diction,  v.  193, 
1850. 


S32  Religioits  Thought  in 

Not  for  the  fear  of  endless  pains  below, 
Which  they  who  love  Thee  not  must  undergo. 

For  me  and  such  as  me,  Thou  deign'st  to  bear 
An  ignominious  cross,  the  nails,  the  spear ; 
A  thorny  crown  transpierced  Thy  sacred  brow, 
While  bloody  sweats  from  every  member  flow. 

For  me  in  tortures  Thou  resign'dst  Thy  breath, 
Embraced  me  on  the  Cross,  and  saved  me  by  Thy  death. 
And  can  these  sufferings  fail  my  heart  to  move  ? 
What  bu   Thyself  can  now  deserve  my  love  ? 

Such  as  then  was,  and  is,  Thy  love  to  me, 
Such  is,  and  shall  be,  still  my  love  to  Thee, 
To  Thee,  Redeemer  I  mercy's  sacred  spring. 
My  God,  my  Father,  Maker,  and  my  King  ! 

He  appears  to  have  had  the  first  verse  of  it  in  mind 
when  he  wrote  in  The  Universal  Prayer — 

What  conscience  dictates  to  be  done, 

Or  warns  me  not  to  do — 
This,  teach  me  more  than  hell  to  shun, 

That  more  than  heaven  pursue. 

The  verse  and  the  sentiment  which  it  contains  is  a 
noble  one.  Nevertheless  the  transition  is  as  strong  as 
it  is  characteristic,  from  the  fervid  personal  devotion 
of  the  great  Spanish  missionary  to  the  measured  '  What 
conscience  dictates  '  of  the  renowned  eighteenth  century- 
poet. 

Pope  wrote  little  sacred  verse  ;  but  his  special  aim 
was  to  be  a  writer  of  ethical  poetry,^  with  an  ethical 
system  based  upon  the  strongest  foundations  of  religion. 
The  design  of  the  Essay  on  Man  approached  very  nearly 
to  that  of  a  sacred  poem.  Milton,  in  the  solemn  prelude 
to  his  great  work,  implores  the  illumining  aid  of  the 
Holy  Spirit — 

That  to  the  height  of  this  great  argument 

I  may  assert  eternal  Providence, 

And  justify  the  ways  of  God  to  men.- 

^  '  Pope's  predilection  for  ethical  poetry  grew  on  him.  ...  In  his  last 
illness  he  compared  himself  to  Socrates,  dispensing  his  morality  among 
his  friends  just  as  he  was  dying.' — J.  Conington  (on  the  poetry  of  Pope), 
Oxford  Essays  (1858),  p.  47. 

-  Paradise  Lost,  i.  24. 


Old  English  Verse  333 

Pope  echoes  these  words,  and  quotes  the  last  line  as  the 
express  purpose  of  his  own  undertaking.^  Somerville, 
in  his  enthusiastic  encomium  upon  the  Essay,  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  overstated  the  aspirations  of  the  writer 
of  it  :— 

Be  it  thy  task  to  set  the  wanderer  right, 
Point  out  her  way  in  her  aerial  flight ; 
Her  noble  mien,  her  honours  lost,  restore. 
And  bid  her  deeply  think  and  proudly  soar. 
Thy  theme  sublime  and  easy  verse  will  prove 
Her  high  descent  and  mission  from  above. 
Let  others  now  translate  ;  thy  abler  pen 
Shall  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  men  ; 
In  virtue's  cause  shall  gloriously  prevail, 
When  the  bench  frowns  in  vain,  and  pulpits  fail, 
Made  wise  by  thee,  whose  happy  style  conveys 
The  purest  morals  in  the  softest  lays. 
As  angels  once,  so  now  we  mortals  bold 
Shall  climb  the  ladder  Jacob  viewed  of  old  ; 
Thy  kind  reforming  muse  shall  lead  the  way 
To  the  bright  regions  of  eternal  day.- 

The  opinion  of  the  clever  hunting-  squire  by  whom  these 
lines  were  written  may  not  in  itself  be  sufficient  to 
establish  that  Pope  had  proposed  to  himself  any  such 
lofty  object ;  but  it  clearly  shows  that  the  Essay  was 
regarded  by  some  intelligent  readers  of  his  time  as 
worthily  accomplishing  the  high  purpose  which  the 
author  of  it  had  laid  down — the  vindication  of  a  Divine 
providence  overruling  all  human  affairs. 

It  is  not  within  the  scope  of  this  chapter  to  enter 
closely  into  the  real  character  of  the  Essay  011  Man. 
There  is  the  less  reason  for  doing  so,  as  the  subject  has 
been  ably  discussed  by  some  of  the  best  writers  of  our 
day.     It  must  not,  however,  be  passed  over  entirely. 

Pope's  Essay  met  the  taste  of  the  age.  The  prin- 
ciples of  natural  religion  were  being  discussed  by  men 
of  all  views  in  every  educated  circle — it  may  be  rather 
said,  in  every  place  of  public  resort  where  men  con- 
versed and  reasoned.     Fundamental  questions  relating 

^  Essay  on  Man,  canto  i6. 

-  W.  Somerville's  Poems :  '  To  the  Author  of  the  Essay  on  Man.'' 


334  Religious  Thought  in 

to  the  nature  of  the  Divine  attributes,  the  origin  and 
cause  of  evil,  the  objects  of  human  society,  were  exciting 
profound  attention  among  all  who  advanced  any  pre- 
tensions to  serious  thought^  In  the  great  controversy 
between  Deists  and  the  defenders  of  revealed  religion 
they  were  being  perpetually  recurred  to.  A  philo- 
sophical poem,  therefore,  on  these  subjects,  proceeding 
from  a  poet  whose  talents  were  held  in  universal  honour, 
was  received  with  the  most  cordial  welcome.  But 
before  the  chorus  of  applause  which  greeted  its  first 
appearance  had  yet  died  away,  the  question  was  already 
asked,  how  far  it  redeemed  the  lofty  promise  of  its  ex- 
ordium. Was  not  its  tendency  rather  a  downward  than 
an  upward  one?  Did  not  its  conclusions  lead  rather 
to  scepticism,  or  to  fatalism,  than  to  a  secure  and  reason- 
able faith?  Pope  was  startled  and  disturbed  to  find 
that  such  an  interpretation  could  be  put  upon  his  poem, 
and  gladly  availed  himself  of  the  powerful  champion- 
ship of  Warburton.  The  truth  is,  he  had  entered  upon 
a  task  unfitted  to  his  genius,  and  far  too  deep  for  him. 
He  had  intended,  in  a  train  of  reasoning  none  the  less 
philosophical  for  its  poetical  form,  to  grapple  with  diffi- 
culties which  are  as  old  as  the  reason  of  mankind,  and, 
in  doing  so,  to  smooth  the  way  of  religion,  and  strengthen 
the  foundations  of  morality.  His  labours  had  resulted 
in  a  poem,  rich  indeed  in  brilliant  passages,  and  fasci- 
nating by  the  polished  condensation  of  its  periods  ;  but 
essentially  vague  and  superficial,  and  open  to  very 
different  constructions,  according  as  the  mind  of  the 
reader  filled  up  for  itself  the  gaps  and  deficiencies  in 
the  thought  of  the  writer.  *  Pope,'  says  Taine,  '  is  a 
poet  if  read  in  fragments.'-^  Much  the  same  may  be 
said  of  his  philosophy.  Where  each  separate  idea  is 
stated  so  effectively,  it  is  at  first  difficult  to  realise 
that  the  solidity  of  the  whole  reasoning  does  not  in  any 
way  correspond  with  the  pointed  impressiveness  of  the 
details. 

^  See  Pattison's  Introduction  to  his  ed.  of  the  Essay  on  Man,  p.  4. 
-  II.  Taine's  Hist,  de  la  Lift.  Anglatse,  Bk.  in.  chap.  vii.  4. 


Old  English  Verse  335 

Yet  the  poem  might  have  been  a  very  noble  one,  if 
Pope  had  had  the  will  and  the  power  to  carry  out  in  a 
religious  and  meditative  spirit  the  plan  originally  sug- 
gested to  him.  Bolingbroke  seems  to  have  pressed  him 
to  write  an  essay  in  verse  upon  the  objects  and  destinies 
of  human  life,  but  to  have  advised  that  he  should  treat 
the  subject  not  so  much  from  an  argumentative  as  from 
a  poetical  and  imaginative  point  of  view.  '  The  busi- 
ness,' he  said,  '  of  the  philosopher  is  to  dilate,  ...  to 
press,  to  prove,  to  convince :  and  that  of  the  poet  to 
hint,  to  touch  his  subject  with  short  and  spirited  strokes, 
to  warm  the  affections,  and  to  speak  to  the  heart' ^ 
But  Pope  had  far  too  much  in  common  with  his  '  guide, 
philosopher,  and  friend '  to  carry  out  the  project  with 
success.  Although  a  steady  believer  in  the  grand  truths 
of  Revelation,^  yet,  as  Hazlitt  remarks,  '  he  was  in  poetry 
what  the  sceptic  was  in  religion.'  ^  He  was  critical  and 
wholly  unimpassioned  ;  he  lacked  enthusiasm  ;  there  is 
no  depth  of  feeling ;  no  grandeur  of  sentiment ;  no 
imaginative  power  in  anything  he  ever  wrote.  His 
special  talents  were  great,  but  they  were  not  of  the 
kind  which  the  task  proposed  to  him  specially  demanded. 
The  sound  common  sense,  the  keen  observation  of 
manners  and  character,  the  epigrammatic  wit,  the  finished 
style,  the  harmonious  flow  of  numbers,  w^ere  all  in- 
sufficient for  such  an  undertaking.  To  all  appearance 
he  scarcely  knew  in  what  consisted  the  less  obvious 
difficulties  of  his  subject,  what  fires  of  world-old  con- 
troversies lay  smouldering  under  the  ground  over  which 
he  lightly  trod,  or  what  unsuspected  conclusions  might 
be  drawn  from  the  argument  by  which,  with  satisfaction 
to  himself,  he  established  the  optimism  of  nature.  His 
poem,  even  in  its  religious  aspect,  must  not  be  unduly 
disparaged.  There  must  have  been  very  considerable 
merits  in  a  work  which   was   not  only  widely  accept- 

^  'Bolingbroke  to  Swift,'  quoted  by  J.  Conington,  in  Oxford  Essays, 
(1858),  p.  44. 

-  Q.  Rev.  xxxii.  p.  310. 

^  W.  Hazlitt,  Lectures  on  the  English  Poets,  94. 


^2,^  Religious  Thought  in 

able  at  a  time  when  a  too  prudential  system  of 
religion  generally  prevailed,  but  which  Kant  and  Dugald 
Stewart  praised,^  and  which  Toplady,  most  Calvinistic 
of  the  Evangelicals,  quoted  with  the  utmost  approba- 
tion.2  Only  it  was  insufficient,-^  like  much  else  that  Pope 
wrote,  both  on  its  theoretic  and  on  its  emotional  side.^ 
Before  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century,  the  time  had 
come  when  this  was  felt,  not  only  by  those  who  had 
been  brought  up  in  that  more  meditative  school  of 
thought,  of  which  men  like  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth 
were  representatives,  but  by  thousands  who  could  have 
given  little  reason  for  the  distaste  into  which  Pope's 
poems  had  fallen,  except  the  practical  one  that  they  were 
not  what  they  wanted.  '  People  still  go  to  see  Pope's 
house  at  Twickenham,'  said  Chateaubriand,  of  the  years 
1 792- 1 800,  and  pick  sprays  of  the  weeping-willow  which 
he  planted  ;  but  his  renown,  like  his  willow,  is  a  good 
deal  decayed.'  ^  In  our  day  his  merits  and  his  defects 
alike  are  probably  far  more  justly  appreciated  than  they 
were  either  in  his  own  age,  or  in  that  which  immediately 
preceded  our  own. 

Gay  wrote  one  or  two  short  poems  on  semi-sacred 
subjects,  a  Night  Contemplation  and  a  Thotight  on 
Eternity  ;  but  they  are  scarcely  worthy  of  further  notice. 
They  are  written  stiffly.  He  was  far  more  at  home  in 
writing  fables  to  pleasant,  easy  verse. 

The  elegy  on  Addison  by  Thomas  Tickell  (1686- 
1740)  has  been  very  highly  praised  by  Dr.  Johnson, 
Lord  Macaulay,  and  others.  The  following  are  a  few 
lines  from  it  on  the  disembodied  spirit : —    • 

In  what  new  region,  to  the  just  assign'd. 

What  new  employment  please  th'  unbody'd  mind  ? 

^  Pattison,  11. 

-  Toplady's  Works,  1825:  'Christian  and  Philos.  Necessity  Asserted,' 
vol.  vi.  p.  84. 

•■•  Yet  a  writer  in  the  Quarterly  Review  remarks  fairly  enough,  '  For  the 
contradictions  and  semi-sophistries  of  these  striking  essays  the  amazing 
difficulties  of  the  subject  should  be  rather  held  accountable  thnn  the  poet.' 
— Quarterly  Review,  July  1862,  154. 

^  Pattison,   9. 

^  Essai  sur  la  I.itt.  Aui^l.,  ii.  273. 


Old  English  Verse  337 

A  winged  virtue,  through  th'  eternal  sky, 

From  world  to  world  unwearied  does  he  fly  ? 

Or  curious  trace  the  long  laborious  maze 

Of  heaven's  decrees  wheie  wondering  angels  gaze. 

Does  he  delight  to  hear  bold  seraphs  tell 

How  Michael  battled  and  the  dragon  fell ; 

Or,  mix'd  with  milder  cherubim,  to  glow 

In  hymns  of  love,  not  ill  essayed  below  ? 

Or  dost  thou  warn  poor  mortals  left  behind, 

A  task  well  suited  to  thy  gentle  mind  ? 

William  Broome  (1687- 1745),  a  clergyman  in  the 
eastern  counties,  left  a  few  poems  on  Scriptural  subjects, 
which  may  be  found  with  his  other  works  in  the  collec- 
tions of  English  poetry.  There  are  lines  in  his  Thoughts 
oil  the  Death  of  my  dear  Friend,  Elijah  Fenton,  which 
would  well  deserve  to  be  quoted,  if  the  whole  piece  had 
not  been  obviously  framed  upon  the  general  model  of 
Tickell's  elegy.  In  truth,  he  was  too  much  of  an 
imitator  ever  to  emerge  from  the  lower  ranks  of  the 
minor  poets.  His  paraphrase,  however,  of  Habakkuk 
iii.  is  by  no  means  wanting  in  vigour.  The  following 
verses  form  part  of  it:  — 

But  why,  ah  I  why,  O  Sion,  reigns 
Wide-wasting  havock  o'er  thy  plains  ? 
Ah  me  !  destruction  is  abroad  ! 
Vengeance  is  loose,  and  wrath  from  God  ! 
See  !  hosts  of  spoilers  seize  their  prey  ! 
See  !  slaughter  marks  in  blood  his  way  ! 
See  !  how  embattled  Babylon 
Like  an  unruly  deluge  rushes  on  ! 

Yet  though  the  fig-tree  should  no  burthen  bear, 
Though  figs  delude  the  promise  of  the  year  ; 
Yet  though  the  olive  should  not  yield  her  oil, 
Nor  the  parch'd  glebe  reward  the  peasant's  toil ; 
Though  the  tired  ox  beneath  his  labours  fall. 
And  herds  in  millions  perish  from  the  stall. 

Yet  shall  my  grateful  strings 

For  ever  praise  Thy  name. 

For  ever  Thee  proclaim, 
Thee  everlasting  God,  the  mighty  King  of  kings.^ 

^  British  Poets,  vol.  viii.  p.  752. 
Y 


2^S  Religious  Thought  in 

Aaron  Hill  (1685- 1750)  was  a  man  of  much  study, 
varied  accomplishments,  and  multitudinous  employ- 
ments, among  which  was  the  managership  of  Drury 
Lane  Theatre.  His  poetry,  though  much  praised  by 
almost  all  literary  contemporaries,^  has  not  maintained 
the  repute  it  once  possessed.  No  doubt  it  shows  much 
original  power,  but  it  is  often  somewhat  affected,  and 
sometimes  turgid.  Sceptical  in  many  of  his  opinions, 
he  was  yet  by  no  means  wanting  in  religious  feeling. 
He  not  unfrequently  chose  Scriptural  subjects.  As 
Prior  had  written  a  long  poem  on  Solomon,  and  Parnell 
on  Moses  and  David,  so  he  wrote  an  epic  in  ten  books, 
and  in  varied  metres,  on  Gideon.  His  verses  on  the 
Judgment  Day,  which  may  be  compared  with  those  of 
Pomfret,  Prior,  and  Watts,  are  very  much  wanting  in 
real  solemnity,  but  have  something  of  the  wild  fantastic 
grandeur  which  characterises  Martin's  pictures.  The 
version  of  David's  elegy  on  Saul  and  Jonathan  is  good, 
and  keeps  close  to  the  original ;  others,  however,  of  his 
paraphrases,  as  of  the  104th  Psalm,  and  of  the  Song  of 
Moses,  have  too  much  straining  after  effect,  too  much 
that  reminds  of  stage  action,  to  be  pleasing.  He  also 
rendered  into  verse  part  of  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
an  attempt  which  could  hardly  be  so  successful  as  to 
escape  an  air  of  being,  if  not  irreverent,  at  all  events  out 
of  place.  His  best  verses  are  contained  in  that  which 
is  also  his  most  sceptical  poem.  The  Religion  of  Reason. 
It  exhibits  a  man  in  the  midst  of  doubt,  in  any  case 
*  undoubting  God,'  and  waiting  in  suspense  : — 

Until  at  last, 
Death  opening  Truth's  barr'd  gate,  'tis  time  to  see 
God's  meanings — in  the  light  His  presence  lends. ^ 

Christopher  Pitt  (1699- 1748),  who  used  to  be  well 
known  as  the  translator  of  Virgil's  ^neid^  and  whom 

^  As  by  Bolingbroke,  Pope,  Chesterfield,  Thomson,  Richardson,  Mallet, 
Savage,  etc. 
2  Hill's  Poems,  British  Poets,  viii.  731.    Cf.  Pope  in  the  Essay  on  Man  : 

Hope  humbly  then  ;  with  trembling  pinions  soar  ; 
Wait  the  great  teacher  Death,  and  God  adore. 


Old  English  Verse  339 

Hervey  calls  'the  famous  Mr.  Pitt  of  New  College,'^ 
was  the  author  of  some  paraphrases  of  part  of  the  Book 
of  Job,  and  of  some  of  the  Psalms. 

They  have  no  claim  to  particular  notice  ;  and  I  quote 
four  lines  simply  to  illustrate  that  characteristic  bane 
of  eighteenth  century  verses,  the  aspiring  to  the  artifical 
graces  of  '  poetic  diction  :' — 

To  Thee  my  muse  shall  consecrate  her  lays, 
And  every  note  shall  labour  in  Thy  praise  ; 
The  hallow'd  theme  shall  teach  me  how  to  sing, 
Swell  on  the  lyre,  and  tremble  on  the  string.^ 

But  it  is  full  time  to  recur  to  the  opening  years  of 
the  century,  and  remark  on  the  condition  of  congrega- 
tional hymnody  at  that  time. 

The  New  Version  was  in  most  churches  first  begin- 
ning to  supplant  the  old.  It  had  been  allowed  *  by  the 
Court  at  Kensington  '  ^ — the  only  authority  upon  which 
it  rests — in  1696.  Nahum  Tate  (1652-1715),  a  year  or 
two  after,  succeeded  Shadwell  as  Court  Poet.  His 
personal  character  was  not  of  a  kind  to  do  great  credit 
either  to  his  Laureate  office,  or  to  his  yet  higher  function 
as  chief  hymnist  to  the  Church  of  England.  *  He  was 
a  good-natured  fuddling  companion,'  says  Southey, 
quoting  from  Oldys,  '  and  his  latter  days  were  spent  in 
the  Mint  as  a  refuge  from  his  creditors.'^  He  wrote 
some  dramas  of  no  great  note,  and  was  an  accomplice 
with  Shadwell  in  *  improving  upon '  King  Lear  and 
others  of  Shakespeare's  plays  ;  an  offence,  of  which  it 
must  be  said  in  extenuation,  that  Otway,  Davenant, 
and  Dryden,  had  done  the  same.^  Nicholas  Brady 
(1659-1716),  his  associate  in  versifying  the  Psalms,  had 
been  an  active  promoter  of  the  Revolution,  and  was 
basking  in  royal  favour  as  chaplain  to  the  King  and 
Queen.  He  was  also  rector  of  the  two  benefices  of 
Clapham  and  Richmond. 

^  '  Meditation  among  the  Tombs,'  Works ^  vol.  vi.  p,  267. 

2  Pitt's  Poems,  British  Poets ^  vol.  viii.  p.  812, 

^  C.  B.  Pearson,  in  Oxford  Essays  (1858),  p.  121. 

**  Southey,  Later  English  Poets,  i.  173.  ^  Qii.  Rev.  xxxv.  186-7. 


340  Religious  Thought  in 

It  was  not  without  a  long  struggle,  which  lasted  in 
fact  well  into  the  present  century,  that  Sternhold  and 
Hopkins  were  at  length  fairly  superseded,  either  by  the 
New  Version  or  by  the  later  hymns.  Their  composi- 
tion was  supported  not  only  by  the  strong  conservat- 
ism of  the  church,  but  by  the  deliberate  authority  of 
many  men  of  ability  and  weight.  Bishop  Bull  greatly 
preferred  it  to  the  one  that  had  recently  come  in  ;  and 
his  voice  was  constantly  heard  by  his  family  very  early 
in  the  morning  or  late  at  night,  singing  the  familiar 
Psalms.^  Bishop  Beveridge  was  quite  of  the  same 
opinion.  He  thought  it  purer  and  plainer  English,  and 
that  it  kept  nearer  to  the  text.^  Hearne  spoke  with 
disgust  of  the  *  intolerable  alterations '  that  had  been 
made,  especially  in  the  change  of  fine  English  Saxon 
words  for  new-fangled  phrases.^  Bishop  Horsley  also 
defended  it  as  a  just  and  dignified  rendering  of  the 
Psalms,^  And  in  country  places  more  especially, 
where  few  could  read,  it  was  no  light  matter  to  set 
aside  words  which,  wedded  to  their  own  tunes,  had 
been  known  by  rote  for  what — going  back  as  it  did 
to  the  earlier  years  of  the  Reformation — must  have 
seemed  like  time  immemorial.  For  a  long  time,  there- 
fore, yet  to  come,  a  great  number,  perhaps  the  bulk 
of  rustic  congregations,  continued  well  satisfied  with 
the  psalmody  they  had  learnt  from  their  fathers  ;  and 
of  many  a  pious  village  home  it  might  be  said  in  Shen- 
stone's  words : — 

Here  oft  the  dame,  on  Sabbath's  decent  eye, 
Hymned  such  Psalms  as  Sternhold  forth  did  mete  ; 
If  winter  'twere,  she  to  her  hearth  did  cleave. 
But  in  her  garden  found  a  summer  seat  ; 
Sweet  melody  !  to  hear  her  then  repeat 
How  Israel's  sons,  beneath  a  foreign  king. 
While  taunting  foeman  did  a  song  entreat, 

1  R.  Nelson's  Life  of  Bull,  p.  6i. 

2  Defence  of  the  Book  of  Psalms ^  etc.,  1710,  quoted  in  Nelson's  Life 
of  Bull,  p.  62. 

^  ReliquicE  HearniancB  (Bliss),  Oct.  21st,  1723. 
^  C.  B.  Pearson,  Oxford  Essays,  (1858),  p.  124. 


J 


Old  English  Verse  341 

All,  for  the  nonce,  untuning  every  string, 

Uphang  their  useless  lyres— small  heart  had  they  to  sing.^ 

Yet  notwithstanding  use  and  association,  and  all  else 
that  could  be  said  in  favour  of  the  Old  Version,  it  was 
evidently  full  time  that  there  should  be  some  great 
improvement  in  church  psalmody.  This  had  sunk  to 
a  very  low  ebb,  and  it  was  long  before  it  began  to 
revive.  The  Old  Version,  with  the  exception  of  that 
of  the  1 00th  Psalm,  which  was  not  by  Sternhold  and 
Hopkins  at  all,  nor  by  their  regular  coadjutors,  but  by 
Kethe,  an  exile  with  Knox  at  Geneva  in  1554,^  has 
very  few  real  merits,  and  these,  such  as  they  are,  not  of 
a  kind  w^hich  society  in  the  time  of  Queen  Anne,  or  of 
the  Georges,  would  readily  appreciate.  Among  town 
congregations,  therefore,  it  had  fallen  into  general 
contempt.  Robert  Nelson,  while  reprobating  such  a 
pretext,  says  that  not  only  were  there  very  few  who 
could  be  prevailed  upon  to  join  in  psalmody,  but  that 
'  the  generality  of  those  who  are  otherwise  very  serious, 
excuse  themselves  from  the  bad  poetry  of  the  Old 
Version.^  The  '  dids,'  and  'ekes'  and  *ayes,'*  and 
other  obsolete  words  and  phrases,  gave  great  offence^ 
to  a  generation  which  prided  itself  upon  improved  and 
correct  language.  Wesley  called  it  'scandalous  dog- 
gerel ; '  ^  Gay  ridiculed  Blackmore's  version  by  saying 
that 

Sternhold  himself  he  outSternholded.'' 

Watts  thought  it  one  chief  cause  of  the  '  entire  neglect ' 
into  which  congregational  singing  had  fallen  ;^  although 
said  he  in  another  place,  some  have  got  to  think  that 
there  is  danger  in  anything  but  '  a  dull  hymn  or  two  at 

^  Shenst one's  The  Schoohnistress,  written  1741. 
2  Saunders's  Eveni7igs  "with  the  Sacred  Poets,  275. 
^  Nelson's  Life  of  Bishop  Bull  (1712),  p.  62. 

*  Spectator,  No.  204.  5  Nelson's  Life  of  Bishop  Bull. 

^  Quoted  by  Pearson  in  Oxford  Essays,  p.  140. 

^  Gay's  Poems,  '  Verses  to  be  placed  under  the  picture  of  England's 
Archpoet. ' 

^  '  Essay  on  the  Improvement  of  Psalmody,'  Works,  vol.  ix.  p.  3. 


342  Religious  Thought  in 

church  in  tunes  of  equal  duhiess,'  and  that  anything 
*  that  arises  a  degree  or  two  above  Mr.  Sternhold  is  too 
airy  for  worship.' ^  The  decline  of  psalmody,  wrote 
Romaine  in  1775,  'happened  when  vital  religion  began 
to  decay  among  us,  more  than  a  century  ago.  It  was 
a  gradual  decay,  and  went  on  till  at  last  there  was  a 
general  complaint  against  Sternhold  and  Hopkins. 
Their  translation  was  treated  as  poor  flat  stuff.  The 
wits  ridiculed  it ;  the  profane  blasphemed  it.  Good 
men  did  not  defend  it.  Then  it  fell  into  such  contempt 
that  people  were  ready  to  receive  anything  in  its  room.'  ^ 
It  can  scarcely  be  doubted  that  the  New  Version 
was,  upon  the  whole,  a  decided  improvement  upon  the 
older  one.  It  has  been  much  decried  ;  but  if  psalms 
only  were  to  be  used  in  Church  to  the  exclusion  of  other 
hymns,  it  must  form  a  large  proportion  of  every  selec- 
tion. Versions  and  paraphrases  of  Psalms  were  pro- 
duced in  surprising  abundance  throughout  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries.  In  the  Review  just 
referred  to  a  number  of  them  are  mentioned,  and  in 
some  instances  quoted.  The  list,  including  those  of  a 
somewhat  earlier  date,  contains  very  great  and  very 
little  names  :  Archbishop  Parker,  Sir  Philip  Sydney, 
Lord  Bacon,  Milton,  George  Herbert,  Sandys,  Bishop 
Hall,  Bishop  King,  Patrick,  Rouse,  Wither,  Sir  John 
Denham,  Addison,  Ford,  Milbourne,  Blackmore,  Miles 
Smyth,  Goodridge,  Barton,  Woodford,  Watts,  Merrick, 
Mason.^  To  these  may  be  added,  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  King  James  I.,  and  in  the  eighteenth,  a  host  of 
additional  names,  including  Doddridge,  Toplady,  the 
three  Wesleys,  Elizabeth  Rowe,  Walter  Harte,  Smart, 
Darby,  Christopher  Pitt,  Romaine,  Bishop  Home.  If 
the  list  were  to  include  all  who  had  now  and  then 
paraphrased  a  Psalm  or  two,  almost  the  greater  part  of 
the  minor  poets  must  be  added.  Watts,  writing  in 
1707,  said  that  he  had  seen  'above  twenty  versions  of 

^  Preface  to  his  Lyric  Poems. 

'  Romaine's  Essays  on  Psalmody  (1775),  p.  104, 

•''  Quarterly  Revieiv,  vols,  xxvi.-xxxii. 


Old  English  Verse  343 

the  Psalter  by  persons  of  richer  and  meaner  talents.'  ^ 
A  modern  writer  tells  us  that  *  since  the  Reformation 
there  have  been  at  least  sixty-five  musical  versions  of 
the  whole  book  of  Psalms,  besides  legions  of  less 
ambitious  attempts.'  ^  Some  of  those  above  enumerated, 
especially  that  by  George  Sandys,  are  no  doubt  very 
superior  in  poetical  merit  to  the  renderings  of  Tate  and 
Brady.  But  superior  poetical  merit  is  only  one  of 
many  qualifications  for  congregational  psalmody,  and 
it  was  not  without  fair  grounds  of  reason  that  the  New 
Version,  although  only  '  allowed  '  by  authority,  much  as 
Wither's  ^  and  Blackmore's*  were,  should  have  firmly 
established  itself,  while  its  rivals  all  passed  into  greater 
or  less  obscurity. 

The  New  Version,  however,  did  not  do  much  towards 
a  revival  of  congregational  smging.  '  Psalmody,'  wrote 
Seeker  in  1741,  'hath  declined  of  late  within  most  of 
our  memories,  very  unhappily.'  ^  And  again,  as  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  in  1766  : — '  Nor  will  it  be  a  small 
benefit,  if  in  the  course  of  your  liturgical  instructions 
you  can  persuade  the  bulk  of  your  congregations  to 
join  in  the  decent  use  of  psalmody,  as  their  forefathers 
did,  instead  of  the  present  shameful  neglect  of  it  by 
almost  all,  and  the  conceited  abuse  of  it  by  a  few.'  ^ 
Indeed,  the  abuses  and  negligences  which  very  com- 
monly prevailed  in  the  manner  of  conducting  the 
singing,  were  quite  as  great  hindrances  to  a  solemn 
and  instructive  style  of  church  music  as  any  deficiencies 
in  the  metrical  versions  which  were  employed. 

In  fact,  congregational  singing  had,  in  the  earlier  part 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  fallen,  through  various  reasons, 
into  a  very  discreditable  condition,  both  in  the  English 


1  'An  Inquiry  into,  the  Right  Way  of  fitting  the  Book  of  Psalms  for 
Christian  worship,'  Works,  vol.  ix.  p.  27. 

2  Eraser's  Magazine  (i860),  vol.  Ixii.  p.  312. 

3  Oxford  Essays  {\%l%),  p.  141. 

^  Life  of  Blackmore,  in  Anderson's  ed.  oi  British  Poets,  vol.  vii.  p.  584. 
^  Second  Charge  as  Bishop  of  Oxford. — Seeker's  Eight  Charges,  p.  65. 
^  Third  Canterbury  Charge,  id.  319. 


344  Religious  Thought  in 

Church  and  among  Dissenting-  communities  ;  and  re- 
form of  some  kind  or  another  was  ardently  desired  by 
all  who  took  any  intelligent  interest  in  this  important 
part  of  public  worship.  '  In  this  situation,'  writes  an 
earnest  champion  of  psalm-singing  in  contradistinction 
to  what  he  called  'human  compositions,'  'the  hymn- 
makers  find  the  Church,  and  they  are  suffered  to  thrust 
out  the  Psalms  to  make  way  for  their  own  compositions, 
of  which  they  have  supplied  us  with  a  vast  variety, 
collection  upon  collection,  and  in  use  too,  new  hymns 
starting  up  daily,  appendix  added  to  appendix,  sung  in 
many  congregations,  yea,  admired  by  very  high  professors 
to  such  a  degree  that  the  Psalms  are  become  quite 
obsolete,  and  the  singing  of  them  is  now  almost  as 
despicable  as  it  was  some  time  among  the  profane.  I 
know,'  he  adds,  '  that  this  is  a  sore  place,  and  I  would 
touch  it  gently,  as  gently  as  I  can  with  any  hope  of 
doing  good.  The  value  of  poems  above  psalms  is 
become  so  great,  and  the  singing  of  men's  words,  so  as 
quite  to  cast  out  the  word  of  God,  is  become  so  uni- 
versal, except  in  the  Church  of  England,  that  one  scarce 
dare  speak  upon  the  subject.  ...  I  blame  nobody  for 
singing  human  compositions.  My  complaint  is  against 
preferring  men's  poems  to  the  good  word  of  God,  and 
preferring  them  to  it  in  the  Church.  I  have  no  quarrel 
with  Dr.  Watts,  or  with  any  living  or  dead  versifier. 
I  would  not  have  all  their  poems  burnt.  My  concern 
is  to  see  Christian  congregations  shut  out  divinely  in- 
spired Psalms,  and  take  in  Dr.  Watts's  flights  of  fancy, 
as  if  the  words  of  a  poet  were  better  than  those  of  a 
prophet.'^ 

These  words  of  a  good  man  introduce  us  to  a  con- 
troversy that  has  long  ago  worn  itself  out,  but  which 

^  Romaine's  ^J5^j  on  Psalmody,  pp.  105-6.  In  a  later  edition  (1775) 
of  this  work,  Romaine  expunged  his  severe  animadversions  on  modern 
hymns.  *  We  no  longer,'  said  Toplady,  '  read  of  Watts's  hymns  being 
Watts's  whims.' — (Toplady  to  Lady  Huntingdon,  Life  atid  limes  of 
Selina,  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  ii.  66.) — The  passage  is,  however,  left, 
both  as  representing  what  was  for  a  long  time  Romaine's  own  opinion 
and  also  a  very  common  feeling  among  Churchmen. 


Old  English  Verse  345 

once  interested  and  disturbed  the  minds  of  many  worthy 
Christian  people — the  question  whether  any  hymns  but 
those  of  David,  and  such  others  as  are  taken  directly 
from  Scripture,  could  properly  be  sung  in  the  worship 
of  the  Church.  There  were  some  strait  Nonconformists 
who  objected  to  any  kind  of  psalmody.  The  only 
Scriptural  singing,  they  said,  was  from  the  heart.  A 
strong  party  among  the  Baptists  did  not  overcome  their 
scruples  on  this  point  till  after  the  middle  of  the  century.-^ 
Of  course  there  was  no  such  feeling  as  this  in  the  English 
Church.  And  yet  the  Defences  of  Church  Music,  pub- 
lished by  Dodwell,^  by  Dr.  Bisse,^  and  by  G.  Payne,* 
and  some  expressions  in  the  Spectator^  seem  to  show 
that,  owing  probably  to  the  very  unsatisfactory  condition 
into  which  congregational  singing  had  fallen,  there  were 
many  who  would  willingly  have  dispensed  altogether 
with  the  musical  part  of  the  service.  The  extract, 
however,  quoted  from  Romaine  is  but  one  instance 
among  numberless  others  of  a  frequent  opinion,  which 
may  perhaps  be  traced  in  every  age  of  the  Church  until 
the  present  one.  The  hymns  of  the  early  Church  were 
many  ;  and  some  very  beautiful  ones  were  composed  by 
some  of  the  most  illustrious  among  its  saints.  But 
Chrysostom  and  others  tell  us  that  the  Psalms  consti- 
tuted the  special,  if  not  the  exclusive,  hymnody  of 
Christian  worship.^  The  use  of  other  hymns  was 
specially  condemned  by  a  canon  of  the  Council  of 
Laodicea  in  the  fourth  century ,7  and  was  made  by  St. 
Augustine  a  point  of  accusation  against  the  Donatists.^ 


^  Ivimey's  Hist,  ii.  373,  and  Marlow's  Discourse  against  Singing, 
quoted  in  Skeats's  Hist,  of  the  Free  Churches,  92. 

^  Dodwell  characteristically  dwelt  on  the  power  of  sacred  music  in  re- 
pelling and  disabling  evil  spirits  :  Brokesby's  Life,  359. 

2  Nichols's  Lit.  Anecd.  i.  120. 

^  '  Defence  of  Church  Music  : '  Sermon  at  the  Anniversary  Meeting  of 
the  Three  Choirs. 

^  Spectator,  No.  630. 

^  Felix  Bovet,  Histoire  du  Psautier,  14,  and  Appendix,  207. 

7  The  59th.     See  Ld. 

^  Augustine,  Ep.  19  ;  in  id. 


34^  Religious  Thought  in 

The  canon  of  Laodicea  was  repeated  twelve  centuries 
later  in  a  decree  of  the  Council  of  Braganza  in  1563.^ 
However  certain  it  might  be  that  Christian  churches 
would  not  consent  to  be  deprived  of  the  public  use  of 
their  rich  and  ever-increasing  inheritance  of  sacred  song, 
there  was  evidently  something  of  a  scarcely  licensed 
irregularity  in  the  use  of  these  later  hymns.  A  similar 
feeling  existed  to  some  extent  in  the  Reformed  Churches. 
The  improvement  of  congregational  singing  was  a 
special  object  with  Wickliffe  ^  and  later  reformers.  Yet 
it  was  only  in  Germany  that  the  ferment  of  religious 
feeling  found  any  general  vent  in  popular  hymns.  It 
may  seem  strange  that  translations  of  them  were  not 
largely  introduced  into  England.  But  the  foreign 
Protestant  churches  with  which  the  English  reformers 
were  at  one  time  brought  into  close  intercourse,  were 
chiefly  Calvinistic,  and  Calvin  was  by  no  means  inclined 
to  permit  the  Psalms  to  be  in  the  smallest  degree  sup- 
planted in  the  churches  over  which  he  exercised  his 
dictatorship.  He  would  not  absolutely  exclude  other 
hymns  ;  '  but,'  said  he,  '  you  may  search  far  and  near, 
but  you  will  not  find  better  hymns  than  those  of  Holy 
Scripture.'  ^ 

The  popular  hymns,  therefore,  of  the  eighteenth 
century — 'collection  upon  collection,  appendix  upon 
appendix ' — were  altogether  a  new  phenomenon,  if  not 
in  the  Christian  Church  in  general,  yet  at  all  events  in 
England.  They  were  caught  up  at  once  by  large 
masses  of  the  people  ;  but  it  cannot  be  wondered  at  that 
they  were  regarded  by  many  with  great  suspicion,  and 
often  vehemently  resisted.  It  is  perfectly  needless  to 
recall  the  arguments  by  which  they  were  supported  or 
opposed.  They  maintained  their  ground,  and  have 
fairly  won  the  day.  Religion  in  England  owes  no  in- 
significant debt  to  the  hymns  which  the  last  century 


^  Augustine,  Ep.  19. 

"^  Fraser's  Magazine  (Sept.  i860),  p.  300. 

*  Calvin's  Preface  to  the  Liturgy,  quoted  by  Bovet,  p.  207. 


I 


I 


Old  English  Verse  347 

produced  in  such  copious  abundance.  The  dissertations 
by  which  Watts,  Toplady,  and  others  prefaced  their 
hymns,  with  the  object  of  showing  by  careful  arguments, 
derived  alike  from  history  and  reason,  that  hymns  other 
than  those  taken  from  Scripture  might  lawfully  and 
properly  be  used  in  the  public  services  of  the  Church, 
have  no  other  interest  now,  except  as  memorials  of  past 
controversy. 

It  may  be  said  to  be  the  peculiar  privilege  of 
hymn-writers,  as  of  the  composers  of  sacred  verse  in 
general,  that  to  a  great  extent  they  write,  not  for  any 
one  society  of  Christians,  but  for  the  Church  at  large. 
Men  whose  theological  views  contrast  most  strongly 
meet  on  common  ground  when  they  express  in  verse 
the  deeper  aspirations  of  the  heart,  and  the  voice  of 
Christian  praise.  Isaac  Watts  (1674- 1748),  like  many 
others  to  whom  we  owe  some  excellent  hymns,  was  a 
Dissenter.  His  father,  a  deacon  of  the  Independents, 
had  suffered  imprisonment  for  his  opinions  at  a  time 
when  toleration  was  scarcely  yet  known.  Noncon- 
formity, which  at  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth 
century  was  at  about  its  lowest  ebb,  may  well 
cherish  his  memory  with  gratitude,  not  only  because  of 
his  hymns,  but  because  'his  scholarship  and  his  ac- 
quaintance with  men  of  letters  did  much  to  redeem 
Dissent  from  the  charge  of  narrowness  and  littleness,'^ 
and  still  more,  because  in  days  of  inertness  and  in- 
difference he  strenuously  maintained  the  better  traditions 
of  the  old  Puritanism.  He  was  a  link  also  between  the 
clergymen  whose  services  had  been  unhappily  lost  to 
the  English  Church  through  the  Act  of  Uniformity,  and 
the  pious  revivalists  whose  energies  failed  at  length  to 
find  scope  within  her  borders  in  the  last  century.  He 
had  been  the  intimate  friend  of  John  Howe  ;  forty  years 
later  he  became  the  friend  and  adviser  of  George 
Whitefield.2 

His  Hymns  and  Spiritual  Songs  were  published  in 

1  H.  S.  Skeats'sZTwA  of  the  Free  Churches,  p.  256.  ^  jd.  p.  257. 


34^  Religious  Thought  in 

1707.  *  Give  us  something  better,  young  man,'  had  been 
the  reply,!  when  he  complained  of  the  want  of  good 
hymns  ;  and  he  had  set  to  work  to  attempt  some  remedy 
for  the  defect.  His  first  hymn,  published  as  a  sample 
of  what  was  to  come,  was  upon  Revelation  v.  9  (a  text 
with  which  his  book  was  afterwards  headed),  and  was 
entitled,  with  a  want  of  religious  modesty  and  taste 
which  was  his  occasional  fault,  A  New  Song  to  the  Lamb 
that  was  Slain? 

Watts's  psalms  and  hymns  are  of  very  unequal  merit. 
In  the  first  place,  he  wrote  far  too  many.  Among  four 
hundred  hymns,  and  an  almost  corresponding  bulk  of 
verses  in  his  adaptations  of  the  Psalms,  besides  his 
Lyric  Poems,  there  could  not  fail  to  be  a  great  deal  that 
might  have  been  advantageously  altered  or  omitted. 
But  in  any  case  his  sacred  poetry  would  have  abounded 
in  faults.  The  strong  and  narrow  dogma  of  the  school 
of  religious  thought  to  which  he  belonged  is  sometimes 
expressed  with  most  repellent  harshness.  Watts  held 
a  most  dismal  view  of  human  nature.  There  are  pas- 
sages in  his  writings  which  show  that  he  occasionally 
recoiled  from  following  out  his  Calvinism  to  its  ultimate 
consequences.  But  in  his  eyes  the  world  was  nothing 
but  a  dreadful  ruin,  Svhereiri  lie  millions  of  rebels 
against  their  Creator,  under  condemnation  to  misery 
and  death,  who  are  at  the  same  time  sick  of  a  mortal 
distemper,  and  disordered  in  their  minds  even  to  dis- 
traction. .  .  .  Only  here  and  there  one  attends  to  the 
proclamation  of  grace,  and  complies  with  the  proposals 
of  peace.' ^  The  sufferings  of  mankind — and  he  drew 
a  dreadful  and  exaggerated  picture  of  them — he  re- 
garded not  as  trials,  not  as  wholesome  chastisement, 
but  as  an  imputed  curse.     '  And,'  added  he, '  it  is  most 

^  F.  Saunders's  Evenings  tvith  the  Sacred  Poets,  p.  283. 
-  So  also  in  its  opening  verse  : — 

Prepare  new  honours  for  His  name, 

And  songs  before  unknown. 

^  Watts's  Rni7i  and  Recovery  of  Mankind,  89,  90  ;  quoted  in  J.  Wesley's 
Works,  ix.  375. 


Old  English  Verse  349 

abundant  goodness  that  mankind  have  any  comforts 
left,  and  that  their  miseries  are  not  doubled.'^  Even 
children,  tender  as  he  was  to  them,  he  regarded  with 
a  sort  of  compassionate  shudder.  *  Cast  a  glance,'  he 
cried,  '  at  the  sports  of  children  from  five  to  fifteen  years 
of  age.  What  toys  and  fooleries  are  these !  Would 
a  race  of  wise  and  holy  beings  waste  so  many  years  of 
early  life  on  such  wretched  trifles  ?  '  ^  As  for  the  world, 
it  is  '  base  as  the  dirt  beneath  my  feet,  and  mischievous 
as  hell.'^  It  need  hardly  be  added  that  the  terrors  of 
a  future  state  of  punishment  lose  nothing  in  horror  and 
hopelessness  in  Watts's  descriptions. 

There  are  other  blemishes  in  Watts's  hymns.  He 
often  used  expressions  which  grate  acutely  upon  the 
ear  of  educated  readers  ;  and  whenever  he  abandoned 
the  simple  language  of  devotion,  and  attempted  to 
decorate  sacred  subjects  with  poetical  ornaments  after 
the  manner  of  the  incomparable  Mr.  Cowley,*  his  lan- 
guage was  apt  to  become  strained,  florid,  and  affected. 

Yet,  notwithstanding  the  faults  which  occasionally 
disfigure  them,  his  hymns  were  a  true  benefaction  to 
the  religion  of  the  country.  Doddridge,  in  a  letter  to 
Watts,  dated  April  5,  1731,  gives  a  striking  testimony 
to  the  impression  they  were  capable  of  producing.  He 
had  been  preaching  to  a  large  assembly  of  plain  country 
people.  After  the  sermon  '  we  sang,'  he  writes,  '  one  of 
your  hymns,  which,  if  I  remember  right,  was  the  140th 
of  the  Second  Book,  and  in  that  part  of  the  worship  I 
had  the  satisfaction  to  observe  tears  in  the  eyes  of 
several  of  the  people  ;  and  after  the  service  was  over 
some  of  them  told  me  they  were  not  able  to  sing,  so 
deeply  were  their  minds  affected.  .  .  .  They  were  most 
of  them  poor  people  who  work  for  their  living  ;  yet  on 
the  mention  of  your  name  I  found  they  had  read  several 
of  your  books  with  great  delight,  and  that  your  psalms 

^  Watts's  Ruin  and  Recovery  of  Mankind,  p.  73. 

2  Id.  p.  80. 

3  Id.  ii.  10. 

*  Watts's  Preface  to  the  Lyric  Poems. 


350  Religious  Thought  m 

and  hymns  were  almost  their  daily  entertainment.'^ 
The  hymn  in  question  was  the  following  one : — 

Give  me  the  wings  of  faith,  to  rise 

Within  the  veil,  and  see 
The  saints  above,  how  great  their  joys, 

And  bright  their  glories  be. 

Once  they  were  mourning  here  below, 

And  wet  their  couch  with  tears  ; 
They  wrestled  hard,  as  we  do  now. 

With  sins,  and  doubts,  and  fears.  < 

I  ask  them  whence  their  vict'ry  came. 

They  with  united  breath 
Ascribe  their  conquest  to  the  Lamb, 

Their  triumph  to  His  death. 

They  marked  the  footsteps  that  He  trod. 

His  zeal  inspired  their  breast : 
And  following  their  incarnate  God, 

Possess  the  promised  rest. 

Our  glorious  Leader  claims  our  praise 

For  His  own  pattern  given. 
While  the  long  cloud  of  witnesses 

Show  the  same  path  to  heaven." 

A  hymn-writer  who  can  produce  such  instances  of 
popular  appreciation  has  fulfilled  one  of  the  chief  con- 
ditions of  a  successful  hymn-writer.  But  Watts  has 
received  very  high  praise  from  cultivated  critics.  James 
Montgomery,  while  acknowledging  that  his  hymns  are 
often  inferior  in  execution,  ranks  him,  in  somewhat 
exaggerated  language,  as  second  to  David.^  Dr.  John- 
son, who  held  the  strange  opinion  that  no  devotional 
subjects  could  be  treated  satisfactorily  in  verse,  limited 
his  praise  to  this,  that  '  Watts  had  done  better  than 
others  what  no  man  had  done  well.'  *  They  at  once 
attained  a  great  reputation,  chiefly  no  doubt  among 
Dissenters,'^  but  also  among  Churchmen,  and  in  America 

*  Corresp.  and  Diary  of  Philip  Doddridge,  iii.  74. 

-  Hymns,  Bk.  ii.  140. 

^  Preface  to  the  Christian  Psalmist,  quoted  in  Oxford  Essays,  p.  151, 

"*  Lives  of  the  Poets  (Cunningham),  vol.  iii.  p.  255, 

^  J.  Newton's  Apologia,  Letter  i.  ;   Works,  p.  881. 


Old  English  Verse  351 

as  well  as  in  England.  Rippon,  who  published  his  once 
well-known  Selection  towards  the  latter  part  of  the 
century,  even  made  in  his  preface  a  sort  of  apology  for 
not  leaving  Watts's  hymns  in  sole  possession  of  the  field. 
Great  as  their  fame  was,  '  it  might  not,'  he  said,  '  be 
improper  to  introduce  others,  .  .  .  not  intended  directly 
or  indirectly  to  set  aside  Watts,  but  because  many 
supplementary  ones  were  wanted.' ^  His  psalms  were 
scarcely  less  popular ;  and  copies  of  them  were  sold 
by  thousands  from  the  first  date  of  their  appearance  in 
17 18.  They  were  not  simply  metrical  versions  in  the 
usual  sense  of  the  word,  but  '  imitated  in  the  language 
of  the  New  Testament,  and  applied,  to  the  Christian 
state  and  worship.'  ^  Such  adaptations  are  apt  to  be 
not  very  natural ;  and  in  one  case,  where  the  75th 
Psalm  is  '  applied  to  the  glorious  Revolution  by  King 
William,  or  the  happy  accession  of  King  George,  the 
mixture  of  ideas  becomes  positively  grotesque.  Many 
are  decidedly  inferior  to  the  New  Version  :  others,  how- 
ever, are  of  great  merit. 

Many  of  Watts's  psalms  and  hymns  are  very  well 
known,  as  they  deserve  to  be.  Among  the  former  are 
the  72nd,  second  part,  '  Jesus  shall  reign  where'er  the 
sun,'  the  84th,  '  Lord  of  the  worlds  above,'  the  90th,  *  O 
God,  our  help  in  ages  past,'  and  the  117th,  'From  all 
that  dwell  below  the  skies.'  His  paraphrase  of  the 
looth, 'Sing  to  the  Lord,'  is  a  favourite  hymn  in  its 
greatly  improved  form  as  altered  by  Charles  Wesley  into 
'  Before  Jehovah's  awful  throne.'  Its  substance,  however, 
was  left  unchanged.  The  146th  is  memorable  from  an 
interesting  association  with  Wesley's  life.  He  expired 
while  faintly  endeavouring^  to  repeat  the  following 
lines : — 

I  '11  praise  my  Maker  with  my  breath  ; 
And  when  my  voice  is  lost  in  death, 

Praise  shall  employ  my  nobler  powers  : 

^  Rippon's  Selection  of  Hymns,  1787,  Preface. 

2  Title  to  The  Psalms. 

^  Oxford  Essays  {\%^%),  p.  150;  Saunders,  p.  286. 


352  Religious  Thought  in 

My  days  of  praise  shall  ne'er  be  past, 
While  life,  and  thought,  and  being  last, 
Or  immortality  endures. 

Among  his  hymns,  some  of  the  best  known  are, 
'  Come,  let  us  join  our  cheerful  songs,'  ^  *  Not  all  the 
blood,' "  '  When  I  survey  the  wondrous  Cross,'  ^  '  Come 
Holy  Spirit,  heavenly  Dove,' ^  'When  I  can  read  my 
title  clear,' ^  *  I  give  immortal  praise,'^  'This  is  the  day 
the  Lord  hath  made,'  and,  above  all,  '  There  is  a  land 
of  pure  delight'  ^  This  last  hymn  is  said  to  have  been 
suggested  by  the  charming  landscape  which  met  his 
eyes  as  he  looked  over  the  Southampton  Water.^  The 
beautiful  hymn,  *  How  bright  these  glorious  spirits 
shine,'  is  an  improvement  by  Cameron  on  Watts's  40th, 
'  What  happy  men  or  angels  these.' 

Watts's  songs  for  children  may  some  of  them  excite 
a  smile,  and  in  other  instances  are  tinged  oppressively 
with  the  gloom  of  a  part  of  his  theology.  But,  as  a 
whole,  they  well  deserve  the  favour  they  have  gained. 
Their  homely  simplicity  commends  itself  to  children, 
and  clings  to  their  memories.  They  are  likely  long  to 
outlive  many  verses  which  are  far  superior  to  them  as 
compositions,  and  which  might  be  thought  more  attractive 
to  the  young.  But  among  the  moral  songs  there  is  one 
of  great  beauty — that  well-known  comparison  of  a 
Christian's  death  to  a  summer  sunset.  William  Wilber- 
force^  speaks  of  it  with  special  admiration.  So  do 
Toplady,^^  Southey,^^  and  others  ;  and  all  readers,  young 
and  old,  will  agree  with  their  opinion. 

Among  them  also  is  the  cradle  hymn  beginning 
'  Hush,  my  dear,  lie  still  and  slumber.'  Like  many  of 
Watts's  hymns  there  are  lines  in  it  which  might  well  be 

1  Bk.  i.  62.  2  Bk.  ii.  142.  3  Bi^^  iij^  7 

*  Bk.  ii.  34.  Not  to  be  confused  with  a  better-known  hymn,  with  the 
same  beginning,  by  Simon  Browne. 

•'  Bk.  ii.  no.  «  Bk.  iii.  38.  ^  gk.  jj,  ^5. 

^  Saunders,  p.  284. 

"^  Memoirs,  v.  289  :  quoted  by  R.  A.  Wilmot,  Lives  of  S.  Poets,  ii.  137. 
^°  Toplady's  Works,  vi.  165. 
^^  Southey's  Specimens  of  the  Later  Poets,  vol.  ii.  p.  96. 


Old  English  Verse  353 

spared.  But,  as  a  whole,  it  is  quite  equal  to  George 
Withers's  *  Sweet  baby,  sleep  ! '  and  Mr.  Palgrave  justly 
says  of  it  that  '  few  child-pictures  have  been  drawn  in 
words  and  colours  of  more  perfect  tenderness.' 

The  religious  feeling  in  the  Lyric  Poems  is  very 
devout,  and  they  contain  many  fine  lines.  They  are 
animate  with  the  profoundest  sense  of  the  greatness  of 
God,  and  with  the  most  earnest  desire  to  know  and  love 
Him  better.  I  quote  from  them  with  the  more  pleasure, 
because,  on  reperusing  them  after  a  lapse  of  many 
years,  I  find  that  in  the  Essay  of  which,  in  the  main, 
this  chapter  is  a  reprint,  I  spoke  more  slightingly  of 
these  poems  than  they  at  all  deserve  : — 

FROM   '  SELF-CONSECRATION.' 

Change  me,  O  God  ;  my  flesh  shall  be 
An  instrument  of  song  to  Thee, 
And  Thou  the  notes  inspire. 

FROM   'the   farewell.' 

Come,  heaven,  and  fill  my  vast  desires. 
My  soul  pursues  the  sovereign  good  ; 

She  was  all  made  of  heavenly  fires, 
Nor  can  she  live  on  meaner  food. 

FROM   'happy   frailty.' 

My  soul  all  felt  the  glory  come. 

And  breathed  her  native  air, 
Then  she  remember'd  heaven  her  home, 

And  she  a  prisoner  here. 

The  following  is  of  a  clearer  vision  of  God  gained  in 
sickness  and  pain  : — 

Oft  have  I  sat  in  secret  sighs 

To  feel  my  flesh  decay, 
Then  groan'd  aloud  with  frighted  eyes. 

To  view  the  tottering  clay. 

But  I  forbid  my  sorrows  now. 

Nor  does  the  flesh  complain  ; 
Diseases  bring  their  profit  too, 

The  joy  o'ercomes  the  pain. 
Z 


354  Religioics  Thought  in 

My  cheerful  soul  now  all  the  day 

Sits  waiting  here  and  sings  ; 
Looks  through  the  ruins  of  her  clay 

And  practises  her  wings. 

Faith  almost  changes  into  sight, 

While  from  afar  she  spies 
Her  fair  inheritance  in  sight 

Above  created  skies. 

Had  but  the  prison  walls  been  strong, 

And  firm,  without  a  flaw. 
In  darkness  she  had  dwelt  too  long, 

And  less  of  glory  saw. 

But  now  the  everlasting  hills 

Through  every  chink  appear, 
And  something  of  the  joy  she  feels 

While  she  's  a  prisoner  heie. 

The  shines  of  heaven  rush  sweetly  in 

At  all  the  gaping  flaws : 
Visions  of  endless  bhss  are  seen. 

And  native  air  she  draws. 

O  may  these  walls  stand  tottering  still, 

The  breaches  never  close, 
If  I  must  here  in  darkness  dwell. 

And  all  this  glory  lose. 

Or  rather  let  this  flesh  decay. 

The  ruins  wider  grow, 
Till,  glad  to  see  th'  enlarged  way, 

I  stretch  my  pinion  through. 

Among  his  Miscellaneous  Thoughts  in  prose  there  are 
some  poetical  pieces  of  much  merit.  Such  are  those 
entitled  The  Sacred  Concert  of  Praise,  The  Midnight 
Elevation,  and  especially  the  poem  upon  God  concealed 
in  Nature,  which  closes  the  short  essay  on  Searching 
after  God. 

The  hymns  of  Philip  Doddridge  (1702-1750)  were 
published  in  1755,  nearly  half  a  century  later  than  those 
of  Watts.  They  were  composed,  however,  at  an  earlier 
date,  and  this  seems  the  natural  place  for  mention  of 
them.  Nothing  need  here  be  said  of  his  personal 
history,  except  only  that  he  was  one  of  the  true  worthies 
of  the  Christian  Church.     Like  Watts,  he  was  a  D.is- 


I 


Old  English  Verse  355 

senter,  and  steadily  refused  offers  of  preferment  in  the 
English  Church.  But  he  would  have  been  glad  if  terms 
of  comprehension  could  have  been  arranged,  and  engaged 
in  correspondence  upon  the  subject  with  several  of  the 
bishops. 

He  was  a  copious  hymn-writer,  his  published  ones 
being  three  hundred  and  seventy-four  in  number.  As 
a  whole,  they  are  by  no  means  equal  to  those  of  Watts, 
or  of  many  subsequent  authors.  It  would  be  very 
difficult  to  find  one  out  of  all  the  number  which  could 
be  ranked  with  any  propriety  as  a  first-clsss  hymn. 
There  is  a  staid  gravity  in  them,  and  a  sober  piety 
which  ensures  respect,  and  gives  them  some  devotional 
value.  And  they  have  few  decided  faults.  But  they 
are  never  likely  to  delight  and  animate  as  some  hymns 
have  the  power  of  doing.  They  contain  few  fine  verses. 
There  is  very  little  spring  and  rush  in  them.  They  are 
occasionally  not  unimpassioned,  but  even  then  there  is 
some  appearance  of  effort  in  them.  Doddridge  was 
very  careless  of  his  rhymes,  and  had  little  ear  for 
melody.  There  is  a  want  of  music  in  his  hymns.  They 
are  often  prosaic,  and,  as  a  rule,  too  didactic.  They 
lose  in  general  character  from  a  cause  which  doubtless 
added  miuch  to  their  immediate  interest  when  first  sung. 
It  was  his  habit  to  compose  hymns  framed  upon  the 
substance  of  his  sermons,  to  be  sung  line  by  line  by  his 
congregation,  while  the  words  he  had  preached  were  yet 
fresh  in  their  memory.^  Hymns  written  under  such 
circumstances  were  likely  to  retain  the  traces  of  their 
origin,  and  to  show  too  much  of  the  preacher. 

Two  of  Doddridge's  hymns  are  particularly  well  known 
from  their  inclusion  among  those  which,  until  lately, 
were  printed  at  the  end  of  our  prayer-books.  One  of 
these  is  the  morning  hymn  for  Christmas  Day,  '  High 
let  us  swell  our  tuneful  notes  /^  the  other  is  the  familiar 
sacramental  hymn,  '  My  God,  and  is  Thy  table  spread.'^ 

1  Job  Orton's  Preface  to  Doddridge's  Hymns. 

2  Hymn  201.  '  Hymn  171. 


356  Religious  Thought  in 

But  neither  of  them  has  any  special  claim  to  the  dis- 
tinction thus  conferred.  The  Christmas  hymn  is  by  no 
means  a  striking  one,  and,  notwithstanding  the  position 
of  vantage  which  it  so  long  occupied,  has  never  attained 
any  great  popularity.  His  best  hymn,  and  one  which 
is  rarely  omitted  in  any  collection,  is  *  Hark,  the  glad 
sound.' ^  That  upon  the  subject  of  Mary's  choice, 
*  Beset  with  snares  on  every  hand,'^  is  also  good. 
Among  other  hymns  by  which  he  is  best  known  are 
those  commencing,  '  Ye  servants  of  the  Lord,'^  *  O  God 
of  Jacob,  by  whose  hand,'  *  Fountain  of  good,  to  own 
Thy  love,'  '  Lord  of  the  Sabbath,  hear  our  vows,'  ^  '  Ye 
golden  lamps  of  heaven,  farewell,'^  'Eternal  source  of 
every  joy ,'^  *  Grace,  'tis  a  charming  sound,'''  and  '  Awake 
my  soul,  stretch  every  nerve.'^  The  295th,  *  O  ye 
immortal  throng,'  is  also  a  notable  hymn  upon  the 
subject,  '  Christ  seen  of  angels.'  The  304th  is  closed  by 
two  graceful  lines — 

I  '11  drop  my  burden  at  his  feet 
And  bear  a  song  away. 

A  fine  stanza  occurs  in  the  305th — 

O  Love  beyond  the  stretch  of  thought  ! 
What  matchless  wonders  hath  it  wrought ! 
My  faith,  while  she  the  grace  declares, 
Trembles  beneath  the  load  she  bears. 

His  295th  hymn,  upon  the  text,  'having  a  desire  to 
depart  and  to  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better,' 
though  not  adapted  for  congregational  use,  is  one  of 
much  beauty,  and  has  a  personal  interest  of  its  own. 
It  was  written,  he  tells  us  in  his  diary,  immediately  upon 
awakening  from  a  memorable  dream  in  which  his  spirit 
seemed  to  have  departed  from  him,  and  to  have  soared, 
with  a  sense  of  unutterable  joy,  into  regions  of  the 
infinite.^  The  hymn  ^^  bears  traces  of  the  strong  emotion 
under  which  it  was  composed. 

^  Hymn  203.  -  Id.  207.  '  Id.  210.  *  Id.  310. 

s  /a'.  119.  ^  Id.  43.  7  Id.  286.  8  Id.  296. 

*  Doddridge's  Corj-espondence,  iv.  357  {note). 
^°  It  begins,  *  While  on  the  verge  of  life  I  stand.' 


Old  English  Verse  357 

Among  the  hymns  appended  'for  use  on  particular 
occasions,'  are  two  of  his  best.  One  is  '  On  recovering 
from  sickness,  during  which  much  of  the  divine  favour 
had  been  experienced.'  ^  The  other  is  '  an  evening 
hymn,  to  be  used  when  composing  one's-self  to  sleep.'  It 
is  too  long  to  be  quoted  at  length,  but  the  following  is 
a  part : — 

What  though  downy  slumbers  flee, 

Strangers  to  my  couch  and  me ; 

Sleepless,  well  I  know  to  rest, 

Lodged  within  my  Father's  breast. 

While  the  empress  of  the  night 

Scatters  mild  her  silver  light ; 

While  the  vivid  planets  stray 

Various  thro'  their  mystic  way  ; 

While  the  stars  unnumber'd  roll 

Round  the  ever  constant  pole  ; 

Far  above  the  spangled  skies 

All  my  soul  to  God  shall  rise ; 

Midst  the  silence  of  the  night 

Mingling  with  those  angels  bright 

Whose  harmonious  voices  raise 

Ceaseless  love  and  ceaseless  praise  ; 

Through  the  throng  his  gentle  ear 

Shall  my  tuneless  accents  hear  : 

From  on  high  doth  he  impart 

Secret  comfort  to  my  heart.^ 

Doddridge's  Hymns  for  the  Young  never  attained 
much  note.  George  III.  as  a  child  was  fond  of  them. 
'  I  must  tell  you,'  writes  Dr.  Ayscough,  his  tutor,  *  Prince 
George,  to  his  honour  and  my  shame,  had  learned 
several  pages  in  your  little  book  of  verses,  without  any 
directions  from  me.'  ^ 

The  motto  of  the  Doddridges — an  old  Devonshire 
family  —  is  Duni  vivimus,  vivamus.  The  Doctor's 
epigram  upon  it  is  well  known  : — 

'  Live  while  you  live,'  the  epicure  would  say. 
And  seize  the  pleasures  of  the  present  day. 
'  Live  while  you  live,'  the  sacred  preacher  cries, 
And  give  to  God  each  moment  as  it  flies. 
Lord,  in  my  life  let  both  united  be  : 
I  live  in  pleasure,  while  I  live  to  thee. 

^  Hymn  364.  -  Id.  363.  ^  Doddridge^ s  Correspondence,  vi.  375. 


358  Religious  Thought 


111 


Among  the  earlier  hymn-writers  of  the  eighteenth 
century  comes  another  eminent  Nonconformist.  Simon 
Browne  (1680-1732)  had  distinguished  himself  by  some 
spirited  answers  to  Woolston  and  Tindal  ;  and  was 
appointed  in  consequence  to  a  post,  occupied  after  him 
by  Samuel  Chandler  and  Dr.  Lardner, — a  lectureship 
at  the  Old  Jewry,  established  by  leading  Dissenters  of 
different  denominations,  for  the  setting  forth  of  the 
evidences  of  natural  and  revealed  religion.  His  hymns, 
some  of  which  have  great  merit,  were  published  in  1720. 
That  beginning  '  Come,  holy  Spirit,  heavenly  Dove,'  is 
well  known,  as  slightly  altered  from  the  original,  in 
modern  hymnaries.  Two  other  good  compositions 
of  this  author  will  be  found  in  Sir  Roundell  Palmer's 
Book  of  Praise,  one  on  the  Lord's  Day,  beginning 
*  Welcome,  sweet  day,  of  days  the  best ;'  the  other 
upon  '  God  our  happiness.'  ^  Some  of  Simon  Browne's 
hymns  are  very  far  inferior  to  his  best.  He  is 
sometimes  extremely  bald  and  prosaic,  as  when  he 
ends  a  stanza — 

That  I  may  never  more  forget 

The  whole,  or  any  single  debt ; 
or  again — 

Faith  is  the  cogent  evidence 

Of  things  unseen  by  mortal  eyes.^ 

In  the  Baptist  communion  there  was  a  succession  of 
able  ministers  of  the  name  of  Stennett.  Two  of  them 
were  well-known  hymn-writers.  Samuel,  who  will  be 
mentioned  later,  was  grandson  of  Joseph  Stennett  (1663- 
1731),  from  whose  writings  I  take  the  following  lines  : — 

MARY   MAGDALEN. 

A  blessed  day  to  me  !  my  Lord's  come  hither, 
And  He  and  I  shall  sup  together. 
But  how  shall  I 
Dare  cast  an  eye. 
Or  boldly  look  Him  in  the  face, 
Who  all  my  secret  sins  doth  trace  ? 

1   The  Book  of  Praise,  ccclvi.  ;  also  in  Rogers's  Lyra  Britanntca,  etc. 
a  From  the  72nd  in  Dr.  Patrick's  Collection,  1786. 


Old  English  Verse  359 

When  to  adore  Him 

Angels  before  Him 
About  His  throne  in  myriads  hover  ; 
Their  faces  with  respect  they  cover. 

Yet,  though  I  fear  Him, 

I  must  draw  near  Him. 
Fear  checks  me,  but  my  soul  shall  soon  remove 
All  the  dividing  bars  by  a  resolved  love.^ 

The  period  that  elapsed  between  Watts  and  the 
Wesleys  was  less  favourable  to  hymn-writing  than  to 
secular  poetry  of  a  semi-devotional  and  meditative 
character. 

James  Thomson  (1700- 1748)  published  his  Seasons  at 
intervals  between  1726  and  1730.     His  poetry  was  of  a 
sort  quite  new  to  the  age.     It  seemed  at  first  as  if  there 
were  small  likelihood   of  its  being  appreciated.     The 
publisher,  when  at  last  one  was  found  to  undertake  the 
work,  thought  for  some  time  he  had  cause  to  regret  a 
bargain  which  had,  however,   cost  him  little.     But  by 
degrees  it  found  admirers,  and  before  long  had  attained 
a  wide  popularity.     The  thoughtful  and  poetical  obser- 
vation of  natural  objects  had  been  for  a  long  time  so 
strangely   neglected,   that    readers    of  literature,    sated 
with  the  artificial  style,  and  with  a  poetry  which  ever 
savoured  of  city  life,  turned  with  delight  to  Thomson's 
pages,  and  found  in  them  a  freshness  which  had  all  the 
zest  of  a  new  discovery.     He  was  probably  all  the  more 
admired  for  not  being  too  much  out  of  sympathy  with 
his  age.-     A  '  bard  of  nature,'  as  Thomson  was  speedily 
called,  can  do  much  to  further  and  quicken  an  intelligent 
perception   of  outward   phenomena,  but  he  cannot  do 
much   towards   originating   a   taste   that   has    hitherto 
scarcely  existed.     Readers  wondered  and  admired  ;  but 
the  passages  they  chiefly  admired  were  not  those  which 
Wordsworth,  for  example,  and   the   lovers   of  Words- 
worth's poetry,  would  most  appreciate.     Thomson  was 
more   popular   than    he   would    otherwise    have    been, 
because,  in  close  combination  with  lines  which  show  a 

1    Works  of  the  late  Joseph  Stennett,  1732,  vol.  iv.  p.  277. 

■'  Leslie  Stephen,  History  of  Thought  in  the  Eighteenth  Century,  360. 


360  Religious  Thought  in 

keenly  observant  eye  for  natural  beauty,  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  add  commonplaces  and  rhapsodies  upon  love, 
simplicity,  integrity,^  or  the  like  ;  such  as  might  have 
occurred  in  any  of  the  favourite  poets  of  the  time. 
These,  remarks  Wordsworth,  or  one  or  other  of  the 
stories  he  has  interwoven  in  his  narrative,  are  the  places 
at  which  a  well-worn  copy  of  the  Seasons  was  wont  to 
open,  and  which  were  considered  the  choice  pieces  for 
selection  in  poetical  extracts.^ 

The  love  of  nature  which  Thomson,  in  spite  of  im- 
perfect appreciation,  did  so  much  to  foster,  blends  very 
naturally  with  religious  feeling.  In  truth,  descriptive 
poetry,  however  exquisite  of  its  kind,  is  without  its 
greatest  charm  if  it  fails  to  bring  *  the  solemn  beating 
heart  of  nature'^  into  some  sort  of  communion  with  the 
higher  and  more  spiritual  faculties  of  the  human  soul. 
The  perception  of  a  spiritual  aspect  in  nature  may  take 
many  different  forms  according  to  the  mind  of  the 
observer.  It  may  be  definitely  religious,  or  it  may  be 
philosophical  or  mystical,  or  the  animating  principle 
may  be  a  pure  moral  sentiment  pervading  the  thought. 
It  may  exhibit  itself  in  a  reverential  sense  of  the  power 
or  the  wisdom  or  the  love  manifested  in  the  order  of 
creation.  It  may  consist  in  a  search  for  final  causes,  as 
where  Sir  Thomas  Browne  writes : — '  The  wisdom  of 
God  receives  small  honour  from  those  vulgar  heads  that 
rudely  stare  about,  and  with  a  gross  rusticity  admire 
His  works.  .  .  .  Every  essence  hath  its  final  cause,  and 
some  positive  end  both  of  its  essence  and  operation. 
This  is  the  cause  I  grope  after  in  the  works  of  nature  ; 
in  this  hangs  the  providence  of  God.  To  raise  so 
beauteous  a  structure  as  the  world  and  the  creatures 
thereof,  was  but  His  art ;  but  their  sundry  and  divided 
operations,  with  their  predestinated  ends,  are  from 
the  treasury  of  his  wisdom.'"*     It  may  be  a  feeling  of 

^  L.  Stephen's  History  of  y^hought,  etc.  360. 

"^  Wordsworth's  Poetical  Works^  supplementary  Essay  to  Preface. 

^  E.  B.  Browning's  PoemSy  '  A  Sea-side  Walk. ' 

*  Religio  Medici,  ii.  18. 


Old  English  Verse  361 

parable  and  hidden  allegories  concealed  in  material 
phenomena  ;  or  it  may  be  a  sense  of  conjectured  unity 
and  mysterious  sympathies  between  the  energies  that 
work  in  nature  and  in  the  soul  of  man  ;  or  thoughts  of 
correspondences  between  external  influences  and  inward 
emotions — material  powers  and  human  destinies ;  or  a 
grateful  recognition  of  properties  given  to  hill  and  wood, 
and  sea  and  sky,  to  tranquillise  and  soothe  the  spirit ; 
or,  on  the  other  hand,  the  subjective  principle  may 
chiefly  consist  in  the  regretful  feeling  of  an  utter  absence 
of  sympathy  between  the  inward  and  outward  world,  a 
sort  of  recoil  from  calm  forces  which  seem  utterly  alien 
to  our  cares  and  joys. 

All  sights  are  alike  to  Thy  brightness  ! 
What  if  Thou  waken  the  birds  to  their  song,  dost  Thou  waken 


no  sorrow  r 


?i 


Or  it  may  be  an  oppressive  realisation  of  the  contrast 
between  the  blunders  and  sins  of  man,  and  the  order 
and  harmony  which  surrounds  him.  Or  it  may  be 
simply  an  imaginative  power  by  which  in  numberless 
ways  natural  objects  are  made  suggestive  of  things  that 
touch  more  closely  our  higher  human  interests. 

In  Thomson's  poem  on  the  Seasons,  the  presence  of 
the  religious  element  is  unmistakable.  It  is  not  ob- 
truded on  the  reader,  but  it  evidently  pervades  the 
whole.  If  it  had  simply  consisted  in  a  feeling  of  the 
majesty  and  power  of  the  Creator,  as  displayed  in  His 
works,  it  would  have  been  no  more  than  is  noticeable 
in  a  great  deal  of  the  sacred  poetry  of  the  age  in  which 
he  lived.  It  is  remarkable,  for  instance,  how  many 
paraphrases  were  produced  during  the  first  half  of  the 
eighteenth  century  upon  those  psalms  and  chapters  in 
the  Book  of  Job,  and  other  parts  of  Scripture,  in  which 
the  general  burden  of  the  hymns  is  '  All  ye  works  of 
the  Lord,  bless  ye  the  Lord.'  Religious  feeling,  un- 
settled by  the  great  controversy  of  the  age,  was  perhaps 
more  than  usually  disposed  to  fall  back  upon  thoughts 

^  C.  Kingsley,  Andromeda,  204. 


362  Religious  Thought 


in 


of  creative  wisdom  and  almighty  power.  It  will  be 
remembered  there  was  very  little  theoretical  Atheism 
in  that  age,  and  what  there  was  scarcely  ever  ventured 
to  make  itself  heard.  And  Deism,  while  it  dissociated 
theology  from  history,  while  it  made  the  idea  of  God 
more  and  more  an  impersonal  abstraction,  and  removed 
Him,  as  it  were,  to  an  ever-increasing  distance  from  the 
ways  and  works  of  men,  left  the  thought  of  Divine 
Creation  comparatively  inviolate. 

Thomson's  theology,  so  far  as  it  appears  in  his  poems 
— for  this  subject,  as  treated  by  him,  did  not  bring  him 
into  contact  with  distinctively  Christian  doctrine — was 
not  unaffected  by  the  vague  and  impersonal  ideas  which 
so  often  characterised  the  religious  philosophy  of  the 
period.  The  thought  of  God  in  nature  does,  indeed, 
perpetually  recur.  But  there  are  passages  where  the 
poet  appears,  at  first  sight,  to  speak  as  if  the  Being 
whom  he  worshipped  were  a  remote  abstraction,  synony- 
mous, or  nearly  so,  with  the  natural  forces  by  which  He 
works.     For  example  : — 

O  nature  I  all  sufficient  1  over  all  ! 

Enrich  me  with  the  knowledge  of  thy  works. ^ 

Or  again — 

Nature  !  great  parent  I  whose  unceasing  hand 
Rolls  round  the  seasons  of  the  changeful  year- 
How  mighty,  how  majestic  are  thy  works  I  ^ 

The  opening  of  the  Hymns  of  the  Seasoiis  has  some- 
thing of  the  same  character  : — 

These,  as  they  change.  Almighty  Father,  these 
Are  but  the  varied  God.-^ 

Such  words,  taken  by  themselves,  might  seem  like  the 
expression  of  a  pantheistic  creed  which  deified  universal 
nature.  The  inference,  however,  would  not  be  correct. 
It  is  obvious,  both  in  the  course  of  the  noble  hymn  in 
question,  and  from   other  passages  in  his  works,  that 

^  Autumn.  ^  Winter. 

^  Hymn  of  the  Seasons. 


Old  English  Verse  363 

there  was  no  real  confusion  in  the  poet's  mind  between 
nature  and  the  Creator,  before  Whose  unseen  presence 
he  reverently  adored.  That  feeling  of  the  presence  of 
God  in  all  His  works  had  with  him  a  life  and  reality 
which  contrasted  very  strongly  with  the  dry  unsubstan- 
tial abstractions  of  the  Deists.  He  could  not  think  of 
God  without  thinking  also  of  His  works  ;  he  could  not 
muse  with  delight  upon  the  beauty  and  the  wonders 
he  saw  around  him  without  meditating  as  well,  not  upon 
the  power  only,  but  on  the  love  of  their  Creator.  Uni- 
versal nature  was  as  rich,  to  his  eyes,  in  hope,  as  it  was 
in  full  and  varied  life.  He  looked  upon  it  as  a  pro- 
gressive scale — '  life  rising  still  on  life  in  higher  tone  ' — 
a  Jacob's  ladder,  mounting 

up  from  unfeeling  mould 
To  seraphs  burning  round  the  Almighty's  throne.^ 

This  thought  was  continually  present  in  Thomson's 
profounder  reflections,  and  evidently  suggested  to  his 
mind  a  solution  of  many  difficulties,  enabling  him  to 
look  forward  to  a  divine  future,  to  which  only  the  faint 
approaches  were  at  present  visible.  Like  most  of  the 
writers  of  his  time,  he  had  been  much  influenced  by 
Pope.  He  has  adopted  Pope's  optimism  almost  in  his 
words,  but  in  a  far  less  crude  and  more  imaginative 
form.  A  candid  and  close  observer,  he  did  not  attempt 
to  shut  his  eyes  to,  nor  to  gloss  over,  the  manifold  im- 
perfections of  the  present  state  of  existence.  But  when 
he  considered 

The  mighty  chain  of  beings,  lessening  down 

From  Infinite  Perfection  to  the  brink 

Of  dreary  nothing,^ 

il  seemed  to  him  that,  though  we  cannot  penetrate  the 
cloud  which  veils  the  will  of  Providence,  it  may  be  well 
concluded  that  this  '  infancy  of  being  ' 

cannot  prove 
The  final  issue  of  the  works  of  God 
By  boundless  love  and  perfect  wisdom  form'd 
And  ever  rising  with  the  rising  mind.^ 

1   Castle  of  Indolence^  canto  ii.  ^  Summer.  ^  Id. 


364  Religious  Thought  in 

Keble  himself  had  not  an  intenser  feeling  that  it  was 
no  mere  poet's  dream — 

Which  bids  us  see  in  heaven  and  earth, 

In  all  fair  things  around, 
Strong  yearnings  for  a  blest  new  birth 

With  sinless  glories  crovvn'd  ; 

Which  bids  us  hear,  at  each  sweet  pause 

From  care,  and  want,  and  toil. 
When  dewy  eve  her  curtain  draws 

Over  the  day's  turmoil. 

In  the  low  chant  of  wakeful  birds. 

In  the  deep  weltering  flood, 
In  whispering  leaves,  these  solemn  words, 

'  God  made  us  all  for  good.'^ 

To  Thomson's  thought  nature  was  full  of  promise, 
'  awaiting  renovation,'  ^ — a  '  second  birth,'  when  awaken- 
ing nature  should 

hear 
The  new  creating  word,  and  start  to  life 
In  every  heightened  form,  from  pain  and  death 
For  ever  free.^ 

The  Great  Shepherd  reigns. 
And  His  unsuffering  Kingdom  yet  shall  come.^ 

Man  and  nature,  glorified  spirits  and  spirits  of  men  who 
*  through  stormy  life  toil  tempest-beaten,'^  were  all,  in 
his  mind,  component  elements  of  the  one  vast  order, 
one  progressive  scheme.  Mankind  may  thwart  their 
own  great  destiny.  To  them,  therefore,  in  his  allegori- 
cal poem,  he  cries — 

Heavens  !  can  you  then  thus  waste,  in  shameful  wise. 

Your  few  important  days  of  trial  here  ? 
Heirs  of  Eternity  !  y-born  to  rise 
Through  endless  states  of  being,  still  more  near 
To  bliss  approaching,  and  perfection  clear, 
Can  you  renounce  a  fortune  so  sublime. 

Such  glorious  hopes,  your  backward  steps  to  steer, 
And  roll,  with  vilest  brutes,  through  mud  and  slime  ? 
No  !    no  !   your  heaven-touch'd  heart  disdains  the  sordid 
crime  !  •* 

^  Christian  Year,  Fourth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 

-  Autumn.  ^  Winter. 

"*  Hymn  of  the  Seasons.  '  Stimmer. 

^  Castle  0/  Indolence,  canto  ii. 


Old  English  Verse  365 

But  God's  order,  in  man  or  nature,  now  or  hereafter,  he 
perfectly  trusted  in,  as  ever  and  wholly  good  : — 

Since  God  is  ever  present,  ever  felt, 

In  the  void  waste,  as  in  the  city  full ; 

And  where  He  vital  breathes,  there  must  be  joy. 

When  ev'n  at  last  the  solemn  hour  should  come, 

And  wing  my  mystic  flight  to  future  worlds, 

I  cheerful  will  obey  :  there,  with  new  powers, 

Will  rising  wonders  sing  ;  I  cannot  go 

Where  universal  Love  not  smiles  around, 

Sustaining  all  yon  orbs,  and  all  their  suns  ; 

From  seeming  evil  still  educing  good, 

And  better  thence  again,  and  better  still 

In  infinite  progression.     But  I  lose 

Myself  in  Him — in  Light  ineffable. 

Come  then,  expressive  Silence,  muse  His  praise.^ 

The  works  of  Edward  Young  (1681-1765)  are  about 
as  strong  a  contrast  to  those  of  Thomson  as  can  be 
imagined.  Transition  from  one  to  the  other  is  almost 
like  passing  from  a  bright  morning  on  a  breezy  down  to 
the  seclusion  of  a  churchyard  at  midnight,  or  to  the 
heavy  air  and  hushed  stillness  of  a  shaded  sick-room. 
The  Seasons  beam  with  day  ;  the  Night  Thoughts  do 
indeed  sparkle,  but  it  is  with  the  lustre  of  jewels  upon 
black  drapery  flashing  back  the  lamplight.  The  general 
merit  and  defects  of  Night  Thoughts  are  well  known. 
It  obtained  a  very  wide  circulation,  and  was  one  of  the 
few  English  books  that  won  fame  and  appreciation  in 
France.  Nor  was  its  popularity  undeserved.  Every 
page  bears  the  stamp  of  originality,  talent,  and  thought. 
Even  its  most  glaring  faults  are  many  of  them  such  as 
none  but  a  clever  man  would  fall  into.  It  is  no  ordinary 
writer  that  could  overload  a  poem  with  such  surplusage 
of  varied  argument,  such  a  surfeit  of  epigram  and 
antithesis,  such  superabundance  of  skilful  rhetoric.  He 
is  sometimes  extravagant,  sometimes  enigmatical,  some- 
times affected  ;  he  is  often  tedious,  oftener  laboured  ;  he 
is  uneven  in  the  extreme :  passages  which  rise  into 
sublimity  are  followed  by  others  which  sink  into  utter 

^  Hymn  of  the  Seasons. 


2,66  Religious  Thought  in 

bathos ;  but  the  impression  of  intellectual  and  literary 
power  is  never  lost  sight  of. 

Young's  remarkable  poem  has  two  great  faults  which 
run  through  it  from  beginning  to  end.  The  first  is  a 
morbid  gloom,  which  caused  Warburton,  at  its  first  ap- 
pearance, to  scout  it  as  a  '  dismal  rhapsody.'  ^  The 
other  is  that  it  is  artificial.  Such  forced  effort  after 
force,  however  successful  it  may  often  be  in  the  im- 
mediate effect  produced,  leaves  behind  it  an  unsatis- 
factory feeling  of  unreality.  There  is  no  sufficient 
reason  to  charge  the  poet  with  being  insincere.  He 
was  an  ambitious  man,  whose  temper,  naturally  melan- 
cholic, had  been  crossed  by  disappointment.  He  thought 
he  had  been  overlooked,  and  that  he  was  entitled  to 
honours  and  preferment  which  had  been  held  back  from 
him.  Adulation  of  the  great — too  common  an  offence 
in  those  days  to  be  accounted  as  odious  as  it  deserves 
to  be — seems  to  have  been  the  worst  point  in  his 
character.  In  other  respects  he  appears  to  have  de- 
served the  high  esteem  in  which  he  was  held  by  those 
who  knew  him  best.  But  his  wit  and  cleverness,  of  the 
possession  of  which  he  was  fully  conscious,  were  a  snare 
to  him  as  a  writer  on  sacred  subjects.  He  was  impressed 
in  all  sincerity  with  the  solemnity  of  the  thoughts  which 
his  theme  suggested  to  him  ;  but  he  could  not  refrain 
from  dressing  them  out  with  an  art  under  which  their 
genuineness  was  disguised. 

It  is  of  course  impossible  within  the  limits  of  this 
chapter  to  enter  into  any  sort  of  analysis  of  a  poem 
which,  amid  much  that  is  tedious,  abounds  in  striking 
reflections — not  unfrequently  disfigured  midway  by 
some  ill-sorted  phrase — upon  the  problems  of  man's 
existence,  his  hopes,  responsibilities,  and  fears,  and  the 
awe  and  mystery  of  which  the  universe  is  full.  A  few 
passages  only  can  be  quoted. 

Early  in  the  First  Nighty  there  occur  some  pointed 
verses  on  the  strange  microcosm  of  human  nature,  which 

^  Warburton  to  Doddridge  :  Doddridge' s  Correspondence,  vol.  ii.  p.  198. 


Old  English  Verse  367 

afford  also  a  good  example  of   the  exaggerated  anti- 
thetical style  to  which  Young  was  prone  : — 

How  poor,  how  rich,  how  abject,  how  august, 
How  compHcate,  how  wonderful  is  man  ! 
How  passing  wonder  He  who  made  him  such  ! 
Who  centred  in  our  make  such  strange  extremes  ! 
From  different  natures  marvellously  mixed. 
Connection  exquisite  of  distant  worlds  ! 
Distinguish'd  link  in  being's  endless  chain, 
Midway  from  nothing  to  the  Deity  !  ^ 
A  beam  ^ethereal,  sullied  and  absorb'd  ! 
Though  sullied  and  dishonour'd,  still  divine  ! 
Dim  miniature  of  greatness  absolute  ! 
An  heir  of  glory,  a  frail  child  of  dust  ! 
Helpless  immortal  I  insect  infinite  ! 
A  worm  !  a  god  !  I  tremble  at  myself 
And  at  myself  am  lost  !     At  home  a  stranger. 
Thought  wanders  up  and  down,  surprised,  aghast, 
And  wondering  at  her  own.^ 

The  following  three  lines  are  very  beautiful : — 

Talk  they  of  morals  ?  O  thou  bleeding  Love  ! 
Thou  maker  of  new  morals  to  mankind  ! 
The  grand  morality  is  love  of  Thee.^ 

He  thus  conceives  of  a  future  beatified  state  of  soul 
and  intellect : — 

How  great 
To  mingle  interests,  converse  amities. 
With  all  the  sons  of  reason,  scatter'd  wide 
Through  habitable  space,  wherever  born, 
Howe'er  endow'd  !     To  live  free  citizens 
Of  universal  nature  !     To  lay  hold 
By  more  than  feeble  faith  on  the  Supreme  ! 
To  call  heaven's  rich,  unfathomable  mines 
(Mines,  which  support  archangels  in  their  State) 
Our  own  !     To  rise  in  science,  as  in  bliss, 
Initiate  in  the  secrets  of  the  skies  ! 
To  read  Creation  ;  read  its  mighty  plan 
In  the  bare  bosom  of  the  Deity  ! 
The  plan  and  execution  to  collate  ! 
To  see,  before  each  glance  of  piercing  thought, 
All  cloud,  all  shadow,  blown  remote  ;  and  leave 
No  mystery  but  that  of  Love  divine, 

^  Young  was  very  rarely  anything  but  original,  but  in  these  two  lines  he 
has  borrowed  from  a  previously  quoted  passage  of  Thomson. 
2  Night  I.  3  7^.  IV. 


I 


368  Religious  Thought  in 

Which  lifts  us  on  the  seraph's  flaming  wing 
From  earth's  '  aceldama,'  this  field  of  blood, 
Of  inward  anguish,  and  of  ontward  ill.^ 

With  Young  should  be  mentioned  Robert  Blair  (1699- 
1746),  a  poet  of  somewhat  similar  temperament.  His 
poem  entitled  The  Grave,  published  in  1762,  is  un- 
doubtedly a  work  of  no  ordinary  character.  It  is  rather 
grim  and  grisly,  like  his  spectres;  but  it  shows  much 
imaginative  power,  and  is  full  of  vigour  and  animation. 
Without  being  a  sacred  poem,  its  tone  is  thoroughly 
religious.  Besides  a  charming  incidental  picture  of 
summer  in  the  country — the  more  attractive  by  contrast 
with  its  surroundings — there  are  some  striking  passages 
in  it.  Such  is  that  which  describes  death  coming  with 
sudden  horror  upon  one 

Who,  counting  on  long  years  of  pleasure  here, 
Is  quite  unfurnished  for  that  world  to  come.^ 

There  are  also  some  fine  lines  upon  sin  as  compared 
with  other  evils,  beginning — 

What  havoc  hast  thou  made,  foul  master,  sin  ! 
Greatest  and  first  of  ills. — The  fruitful  parent 
Of  woes  of  all  dimensions  !     But  for  thee 
Sorrow  had  never  been.     All-noxious  thing 
Of  vilest  nature  !     Other  sorts  of  evils 
Are  hardly  circumscribed,  and  have  their  bounds. 
The  fierce  volcano,  from  his  burning  entrails 
That  belches  molten  stone  and  globes  of  fire, 
Involved  in  pitchy  clouds  of  smoke  and  stench. 
Mars  the  adjacent  fields  for  some  leagues  round. 
And  there  it  stops. — The  big  swol'n  inundation. 
Of  mischief  more  diffusive,  raving  loud, 
Buries  whole  tracts  of  country,  threatening  more  ; 
But  that  too  has  its  shore  it  cannot  pass, 
More  dreadful  far  than  those  sin  has  laid  waste. 
Not  here  and  there  a  country,  but  a  world.^ 

A  third  passage  pictures  the  tranquil  death  of  a  good 

man.     The  opening  lines  are  : — 

vSure  the  last  end 
Of  the  good  man  is  peace  1  How  calm  his  exit  ! 
Night-dews  fall  not  more  gently  to  the  ground, 
Nor  weary,  worn-out  winds  expire  so  soft.* 

^  Night  VI.       2  xhe  Grave,  350-69.  '^  Id.  601.  **  Id.  706. 


Old  English  Verse  369 

Mark   Akenside   (i 721- 1770)  was   another  of  those 
didactic  writers  on  semi-religious  subjects  in  whom  the 
eighteenth  century  was  prolific.     His  Pleasures  of  Im- 
agination was  published   in  the  first  instance  in   1744, 
but  was  rewritten  in  his  later  years,  and  appeared  in  a 
very  altered  form  in  1772,  soon  after  his  death.     It  is 
well  described   by  Jeffrey  as   '  a  sort  of  classical    and 
philosophical   rapture,  which  no   elegance  of  language 
could    easily   have    rendered    popular,   but   which    had 
merits  of  no  vulgar  order  for  those  who  could  study  it.'^ 
It  is,  indeed,  difficult  reading.     Not  from  any  fault  in 
thought   or   style :    the  versification    flows    musically ; 
Aikin  calls  it  'perhaps  the  most  perfect    specimen  of 
blank   verse   that   the    language   affords.'  ^      But   it    is 
tedious,    because    the   reader  does   not   easily   perceive 
what  the  writer  is  aiming  at.     It  is  a  defect  which  was 
mainly  owing  to  the  nature  of  his  subject.      The   re- 
ligious and  ethical  philosophy  of  the  day  was  so  divorced 
from  history,  and  so  vague  and  abstract  in  its  nature, 
that  a  writer  who  wished  to  embody  it  in  poetry,^  and 
represent  it  to  the  eye  by  imagery,  was  tempted  to  have 
recourse  to  hollow  allegorical  figures — personifications 
of  ideas  and  qualities,  which  may  adorn,  but  are  certainly 
very  apt  to  perplex,  the  argument.     Akenside  was  an 
admirer  of  Shaftesbury's  writings,  and  his  Pleasures  of 
Imagination  is,  to  a  great  extent,  a  poetical  exposition 
of  that   philosophy.     A  reflective    and,    in    his  way,  a 
devout  and  religious  man,  imbued  also  with  the  loftier 
ideas  of  Plato,  he  escaped  the  levity  of  Shaftesbury,  and 
was   chiefly  attracted   by  his  speculations  on   the  con- 
nection of  beauty  with  truth  and  goodness,  the  operation 
of  the  imaginative  upon  the  moral  faculties,  and  the  re- 
lations of  pleasure  with  virtue. 

In    the  following  lines    Akenside    is  perhaps  at  his 
best : — 


^  Francis  (Lord)  Jeffrey's  Coiitribiciions  to  the  Ediii.  Kevieiv,  i66. 
-  J.  Aikin 's  Letters  on  English  Poetry,  i6i. 

•^  See  some  remarks  of  Leslie  Stephen,  Hist,  of  English  Thought  in  the 
Eighteenth  Century,  ii.  365-6. 

2  A 


370  ReligioMs  Thought  in 

For,  from  the  birth 
Of  mortal  man,  the  Sovereign  Maker  said, 
That  not  in  humble  nor  in  brief  delight. 
Not  in  the  fading  echoes  of  renown, 
Power's  purple  robes,  nor  Pleasure's  flowing  cup. 
The  soul  should  find  enjoyment  ;  but,  from  these 
Turning  disdainful  to  an  equal  good. 
Though  all  the  ascent  of  things  enlarge  her  view, 
Till  every  bound  at  length  should  disappear, 
And  infinite  perfection  close  the  scene. 

Call  now  to  mind  what  high  capacious  powers 
Lie  folded  up  in  man  ;  how  far  beyond 
The  praise  of  mortals  may  the  eternal  growth 
Of  nature  to  perfection  half  divine 
Expand  the  blooming  soul  !  what  pity  then. 
Should  sloth's  unkindly  fogs  depress  to  earth 
The  tender  blossom,  choke  the  streams  of  life, 
And  blast  her  spring  !  ^ 

William  Hamilton  (1704- 17 54)  was  an  ardent  Jacobite, 
who  joined  the  Pretender  in  the  movement  of  1745. 
His  Contemplation,  which  was  published  two  or  three 
years  previous  to  that  date,  contains  some  pleasing  lines. 
In  1746,  after  the  defeat  of  Prestonpans,  when  he  was 
wandering  among  the  hills  and  moors  in  constant  and 
imminent  peril,  he  wrote  some  touching  verses,  of  which 
the  following  is  a  part.  It  is  a  soliloquy  with  him- 
self:— 

Now  in  this  sad  and  dismal  hour 

Of  multiplied  distress. 
Has  any  former  thought  the  power 

To  make  thy  sorrows  less  ? 

When  all  around  thee  cruel  snares 

Threaten  thy  destined  breath, 
And  every  sharp  reflection  bears 

Want,  exile,  chains  or  death, 

Can  ought  that's  past  in  youth's  fond  reign 

Thy  pleasing  vein  restore  ? 
Lives  beauty's  gay  and  festive  train 

In  memory's  soft  store? 


Pleasti  res  of  Imagination ,  i .  212-31. 


Old  English  Verse  371 

Or  does  the  muse  ?     'Tis  said  her  art 

Can  fiercest  pangs  appease — 
Can  she  to  thy  poor  trembhng  heart 

Now  speak  the  words  of  peace  ? 

Yet  she  was  wont  at  early  dawn 

To  whisper  thee  repose, 
Nor  was  her  friendly  aid  withdrawn 

At  grateful  evening's  close. 

Friendship,  'tis  true,  its  sacred  might 

May  mitigate  thy  doom  ; 
As  lightning  shot  across  the  night 

A  moment  gilds  the  gloom. 

O  God  I  Thy  providence  alone 

Can  work  a  wonder  here, 
Can  change  to  gladness  every  moan 

And  banish  all  my  fear. 

Thy  arm,  all  powerful  to  save. 

May  every  doubt  destroy  ; 
And  from  the  horrors  of  the  grave 

New  raise  to  life  and  joy. 

From  this,  as  from  a  copious  spring, 

Pure  consolation  flows  ; 
Makes  the  faint  heart  'mid  sufferings  sing. 

And  midst  despair  repose. 

Yet  from  its  creature  gracious  Heaven, 

Most  merciful  and  just. 
Asks  but,  for  life  and  safety  given. 

Our  faith  and  humble  trust.^ 

Walter  Harte  (1700- 1773),  Vice-Principal  of  St.  Mary 
Hall,  Oxford,  afterwards  tutor  to  Lord  Chesterfield's 
son,  and  finally  Canon  of  Windsor,  was  the  writer  of 
some  devotional  poetry  which  has  little  in  common  with 
the  general  character  of  his  age.  He  had  been  brought 
up  among  the  best  traditions  of  the  Nonjurors,  His 
father,  whose  memory  he  affectionately  celebrates  in  a 
poem  entitled  Macariiis,  or  the  CJiristian  Confessor^  was 
a  man  who  had  been  held  in  most  deserved  honour  for 
his  piety,  his  learning,  and  the  self-denying  simplicity  of 
his  life.  He  had  energetically  remonstrated  with  Judge 
Jeffreys  in  behalf  of  the  victims  of  Monmouth's  rebellion; 

^  A  Soliloquy,  1746. 


372  Religious  Thought  in 

and  that  truculent  barbarian,  if  he  did  not  relent  at  his 
intercessions,  at  all  events  respected  the  intercessor,  for 
whom  he  obtained,  unasked,  a  prebendary  stall  at  Bristol. 
Ken  and  Kettlewell,  Nelson,  Dodwell,  and  Hooper  were 
his  friends.  In  Queen  Anne's  time,  Lord  Chancellor 
Harcourt  showed  his  esteem  for  the  stout-hearted  Non- 
juror by  offering  him  a  bishopric.  He  declined  it  how- 
ever, and  died  in  seclusion  in  1735.  Walter  Harte  was 
a  student  and  theologian  of  much  the  same  type  as  his 
father,  devoting  himself  especially  to  early  patristic 
literature. 

Harte  published  various  sermons,  translations,  poeti- 
cal miscellanies,  and  a  carefully  written  history  of 
Gustavus  Adolphus.  But  his  Divine  Poems  were  what 
he  considered  his  principal  work.  They  appeared  in 
1767.  He  was  inclined  to  call  them  Emblems,  after 
the  example  of  Quarles,  of  whom  he  was  an  admirer. 
Chesterfield,  on  the  other  hand,  who  had  a  supreme 
contempt  for  that  poet,  wanted  him  to  name  them 
Moral  Tales.  Harte  compromised  the  matter  by  call- 
ing them  Parables,  Fables,  Euiblematic  Visions,  etc. 
They  sometimes  give  an  idea  of  being  rather  laboured, 
and  of  being  overburdened  by  the  patristic  allusions 
which  he  cites  or  refers  to  in  the  foot-notes.  But  his 
poetry  is  by  no  means  of  a  commonplace  order.  In 
his  Vision  of  Thomas  a  Kempis  ^  he  has  occasionally 
succeeded  in  rendering  into  fit  verse  some  of  the 
apophthegms  of  the  Imitatio  Christi.     For  example  : — 

With  prayers  thy  evening  close,  thy  mom  begin  ; 
But  heaven's  true  Sabbath  is  to  rest  from  sin. 

Or  again — 

Most  would  buy  heaven  without  a  price  or  loss  ; 
They  like  the  paradise,  but  shun  the  cross. 

His  best  poem  is  the  Meditation  on  Christ's  Death  and 
Passion-.  An  Emblem.     It  is  headed  with  the  motto — 

Respice  dum  transis,  quia  sis  mihi  causa  doloris. 
1  British  Poets,  \o\.  ix.  pp.  857-60. 


Old  English  Verse  '^'j'X, 

Part  of  it  is  as  follows  : — 

Haste  not  so  fast  on  worldly  cares  employ'd  ; 
Thy  bleeding  Saviour  asks  a  short  delay  : 
Wnhat  trifling  bliss  is  still  to  be  enjoy'd  ? 
WTiat  change  of  folly  wings  thee  on  thy  way  ? 
Look  back  a  moment,  pause  a  while,  and  stay. 
For  Thee  thy  God  assumed  the  human  frame  ; 
For  Thee  the  guiltless  pains  and  anguish  tried  ; 
Thy  passions  (sin  excepted)  His  became  : 
Like  thee  He  suffer'd,  hungerd,  wept,  and  died. 

From  this  one  prospect  draw  thy  sole  relief, 
Here  learn  submission,  passive  duties  learn  ; 
Here  drink  the  calm  oblivion  of  thy  grief; 
Eschew  each  danger,  eveiy  good  discern. 
And  the  true  wages  of  thy  virtue  earn. 
Reflect,  O  man,  on  such  stupendous  love. 
Such  SNTnpathy  divine,  and  tender  care  : 
Beseech  the  Paraclete  thine  heart  to  move, 
And  offer  up  to  heaven  thy  silent  prayer. 

Thomas  Gray  was  born  in  17 16  and  died  in  1 771. 
Keble  has  remarked  of  his  Elegy  (175 1),  that,  to  the 
shameof  the  eighteenth  century,  it  is  about  the  only  speci- 
men of  '  the  indirect,  and  perhaps  the  more  effective, 
species  of  sacred  poetry,  produced  in  that  age,  which  has 
obtained  any  celebrity.'  ^  Its  popularity  was  immediate  ; 
in  a  very  short  time  it  passed  through  eleven  editions. 
It  may,  in  fact,  be  fairly  said  of  it,  that  from  the  time 
of  its  first  appearance  it  has  always  been  one  of  the  best- 
known  poems  in  the  whole  range  of  English  literature. 
Dr.  Johnson,  who  did  not  at  all  appreciate  Gray's  other 
poetry,  and  has  done  him,  for  the  most  part,  very  scanty 
justice,  had  only  commendation  for  the  Elegy.  '  Had 
Gray,'  said  he,  '  written  often  thus,  it  had  been  vain  to 
blame,  and  useless  to  praise  him.'  - 

Gray  was  not  the  founder  of  a  school  of  poetry  in  the 
sense  that  Cowley,  or  Dryden  and  Pope  had  been.  His 
poetical  works  were  few,  and  a  good  deal  that  he  wrote 
was  received  with  a  sort  of  blank  wonder,  as  if  it  were 
simply  unintelligible.     But  he  did  much  to  refine  and 

1  Quart.  Rev.  xxxii.  231.  -  Lives  of  the  Poets,  iii.  427. 


374  Religious  Thought  in 

elevate  taste.  He  was  called  '  Gothic  '  in  a  sense  that 
implied  disparagement.  In  reality,  the  infusion  of  ideas 
derived  from  the  Northern  Sagas  had  a  decidedly  bene- 
ficial effect  upon  our  literature,  as  having  a  freshness 
and  a  vigour  in  them  which  had  for  some  time  been 
wanting.  Cowper  used  to  maintain  that  Gray  was  the 
only  sublime  poet  since  Shakespeare.^  At  all  events, 
there  was  in  his  work  a  simple  dignity,  an  unaffected 
energy,  which  was  peculiarly  refreshing  by  contrast 
with  the  artificial  graces  and  pomposities  which  had 
been  too  much  in  vogue.  It  has  been  said,  with  truth, 
that  Gray  was  among  the  first  Englishmen  who  showed 
any  capacity  for  the  appreciation  of  mountain  scenery. 
In  more  than  one  way  he  was  representative  of  a  new 
tone  of  thought  which,  at  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  was  steadily  but  slowly  gaining  ground  among 
cultivated  men.  Thirty  or  forty  years  earlier,  the 
character  of  Gray's  genius  would  have  been  so  strikingly 
exceptional  as  to  seem  almost  an  anachronism.  His 
writings  mark  with  tolerable  accuracy  the  termination 
of  a  period  in  poetical  literature.  For  a  long  time 
previously  there  had  scarcely  been  a  poet  in  whom  the 
influence  of  Pope,  or  at  least  of  the  style  of  thought  and 
writing  of  which  Pope  was  the  most  brilliant  represent- 
ative, could  not  be  distinctly  traced.  Gray  was  the  first 
writer  of  poetry  in  that  age  who  wholly  emancipated 
himself  from  it.  One  distinguishing  quality,  however, 
they  had  in  common.  Not  Pope  even  could  outvie 
Gray  in  the  polished  finish  of  his  verses. 

It  is  only  by  a  certain  latitude  of  interpretation  that 
Gray  can  be  included  among  writers  of  sacred  poetry. 
Yet  there  is  great  religious  beauty  in  the  last  verse  of 
the  Elegy  : — 

No  further  seek  his  merits  to  disclose, 
Or  draw  his  frailties  from  their  dread  abode — 
(There  they  alike  in  trembling  hope  repose). 
The  bosom  of  his  Father  and  his  God. 


Cowper  to  J.  Hill :   quoted  in  Wilmott's  Lives  of  Sacred  Poets,  205. 


Old  English  Verse  375 

The  name  of  Gray  naturally  suggests  that  of  his 
brother  poet  and  intimate  friend  and  biographer. 
William  Mason  (1725-1797)  was  an  opulent  clergyman, 
Fellow  of  Pembroke  Hall,  Cambridge,  and  afterwards 
Rector  of  Aston,  in  Derbyshire,  and  Prebendary  of 
York — a  man  of  many  accomplishments,  skilled  in 
music  and  painting,  keenly  alive  to  the  sublime  and 
picturesque,  and  gifted  with  a  most  poetical  imagina- 
tion. Without  possessing  anything  like  the  erudition 
of  his  friend  Gray,  he  was  yet  a  competent  scholar,  and 
w^as  particularly  well  read  in  old  English  and  Italian 
poetry.  In  politics  he  was  an  enthusiastic  Liberal.  In 
theology  he  was  orthodox.  An  active-minded  and 
conscientious  man,  he  did  not  allow  his  multifarious 
tastes  to  interfere  with  the  duties  of  his  callings.  He 
was  charitable  and  hospitable  ;  and  a  genial  spirit  of 
religion,  traceable  throughout  all  his  life  and  works, 
shed  a  special  brightness  over  all  his  later  years. 

Mason's  sacred  poetry  is  varied  in  kind.  His  Sunday 
morning  and  evening  hymns,  written  for  use  in  York 
Cathedral,  are  tolerably  well  known.  The  former 
begins : — 

Again  returns  the  day  of  holy  rest 
Which,  when  he  made  the  world,  Jehovah  blest ; 
When,  like  His  own.  He  bade  our  labours  cease 
And  all  be  piety,  and  all  be  peace. 

The  latter  : — 

Soon  will  the  evening"  star  with  silver  ray. 
Shed  its  mild  lustre  on  this  sacred  day  ; 
Resume  we  then,  ere  sleep  and  silence  reign, 
The  rites  that  holiness  and  heaven  ordain.^ 

Among  his  earlier  odes,  published  in  1756,  there  is  a 
fine  paraphrase  of  the  '  proverb  against  the  King  of 
Babylon'  in  the  14th  chapter  of  Isaiah.  It  is  entitled 
TJie  Fate  of  Tyranny.  No  paraphrase  can  vie  with  the 
sublimity  of  the  simple  text ;  and  in  Mason's  style 
there  is  generally  some  tendency  to   overload    grand 

^   Works  of  W.  Mason,  ii.  467. 


'^'](i  Religiotis  Thought  in 

conceptions  with  a  too  great  profusion  of  ornament. 
But  there  is  certainly  much  grandeur  in  the  following 
rendering  of  the  passage  beginning  at  the  7th  verse 
(*  The  whole  earth  is  at  rest,  and  is  quiet  ;  they  break 
forth  into  singing,'  etc.).  It  should  be  compared  while 
read  with  the  original : — 

I 


He  falls  ;  and  earth  again  is  free, 
Hark  !  at  the  call  of  liberty, 

All  nature  lifts  the  choral  song. 
The  fir-trees  on  the  mountain's  head, 
Rejoice  through  all  their  pomp  of  shade  ; 
The  lordly  cedars  nod  on  sacred  Lebanon  : 
'  Tyrant,'  they  cry,  '  since  thy  fell  force  is  broke, 
Our  proud  heads  pierce  the  skies,  nor  fear  the  woodman's 
stroke.' 

3 
Hell,  fiom  her  gulph  profound. 
Rouses  at  thine  approach  ;  and  all  around 
The  dreadful  notes  of  preparation  sound. 
See,  at  the  awful  call, 
Her  shadowy  heroes  all, 
Ev'n  mighty  kings,  the  heirs  of  empire  wide, 
Rising,  with  solemn  state,  and  slow, 
From  their  sable  thrones  below. 

Meet  and  insult  thy  pride. 
What,  dost  thou  join  our  ghostly  train, 
A  flitting  shadow,  light  and  vain  ? 
Where  is  thy  pomp,  thy  festive  throng, 
Thy  revel  dance,  and  wanton  song  ? 
Proud  king  !  corruption  fastens  on  thy  breast  ; 
And  calls  her  crawling  brood,  and  bids  them  share  the 
feast. 

II 


O  Lucifer  !  thou  radiant  star  ; 

Son  of  the  morn  ;  whose  rosy  car 

Flamed  foremost  in  the  van  of  day  : 

How  art  thou  fall'n,  thou  king  of  light  ! 

How  fall'n  from  thy  meridian  height  ! 
Who  saidst,  '  The  distant  poles  shall  hear  me  and  obey, 
High  o'er  the  stars  my  sapphire  throne  shall  glow, 
And  as  Jehovah's  self  my  voice  the  heavens  shall  bow.' 


Old  English  Verse  377 


He  spake,  he  died.     Distain'd  with  gore, 

Beside  yon  yawning  cavern  hoar, 

See  where  his  livid  corse  is  laid. 

The  aged  pilgrim  passing  by 

Surveys  him  long  with  dubious  eye  ; 
And  muses  on  his  fate  and  shakes  his  reverend  head. 
Just  Heav'ns  !  is  thus  thy  pride  imperial  gone? 
Is  this  poor  heap  of  dust  the  king  of  Babylon  ? 

3 

Is  this  the  man  whose  nod 

Made  the  earth  tremble  :  whose  terrific  nod 

LevelPd  her  loftiest  cities  ?     Where  he  trod 
Famine  pursued  and  frown'd  ; 
Till  nature,  groaning  round, 
Saw  her  rich  realms  transform'd  to  deserts  dry  ; 

While  at  his  crowded  prison's  gate, 

Grasping  the  keys  of  fate, 
Stood  stern  captivity. 

Vain  man  !  behold  thy  righteous  doom  ; 

Behold  each  neighb'ring  monarch's  tomb, 

The  trophied  arch,  the  breathing  bust ; 

The  laurel  shades  their  sacred  dust ; 
While  thou,  vile  outcast  on  this  hostile  plain, 
Moulder'st,  a  vulgar  corse,  among  the  vulgar  slain. ^ 

Mason  continued  to  write  poetry  in  his  old  age.  If 
it  had  somewhat  lost  in  vigour,  it  gained  in  a  deeper 
tone  of  serene  and  thankful  piety.  The  following  are 
the  closing  lines  of  his  Religio  Clerici,  written  in  1796  : — 

Father,  Redeemer,  Comforter  divine  ! 

This  humble  offering  to  Thy  equal  shrine 

Here  thy  unworthy  serv^ant  grateful  pays. 

Of  undivided  thanks,  united  praise. 

For  all  those  mercies  which  at  birth  began. 

And  ceaseless  flowed  through  life's  long  lengthen'd  span — 

Propt  my  frail  frame  through  all  the  varied  scene, 

With  health  enough  for  many  a  day  serene  ; 

Enough  of  science  clearly  to  discern 

How  few  important  truths  the  wisest  learn  ; 

Enough  of  art  ingenuous  to  employ 

The  vacant  hours  when  graver  studies  cloy  ; 

Enough  of  wealth  to  serve  each  honest  end, 

The  poor  to  succour,  or  assist  a  friend  ; 

1    Works  of  W.  Masofi,  ii.  46-8. 


37^  Religious  Thought  in 

Enough  of  faith  in  Scripture  to  descry 
That  the  sure  hope  of  immortaHty, 
Which  only  can  the  fear  of  death  remove, 
Flows  from  the  fountain  of  Redeeming  Love.^ 

At  the  risk  of  quoting  at  disproportionate  length 
from  the  writings  of  this  poet,  the  sonnet  must  be 
added  which  he  wrote  on  his  last  birthday,  February 
23d,  1797,  only  a  few  weeks  before  his  death  : — 

Again  the  year  on  easy  wheels  has  roll'd, 

To  bear  me  to  the  term  of  seventy-two. 

Yet  still  my  eyes  can  seize  the  distant  blue 
Of  yon  wild  Peak,  and  still  my  footsteps  bold, 
Unpropp'd  by  staff,  support  me  to  behold 

How  Nature,  to  her  Maker's  mandates  true, 

Calls  Spring's  impartial  heralds  to  the  view. 
The  snowdrop  pale,  the  crocus  spiked  with  gold  ; 

And  still  (thank  Heav'n)  if  I  not  falsely  deem. 
My  lyre,  yet  vocal,  freely  can  afford 

Strains  not  discordant  to  each  moral  theme 
Fair  Truth  inspires,  and  aids  me  to  record 

(Best  of  poetic  palms  I)  my  faith  supreme 
Tn  Thee,  my  God,  my  Saviour,  and  my  Lord  I  - 

It  has  been  before  observed  that  Dr.  Johnson  (1709- 
1785)  did  not  believe  in  the  capabilities  of  devotional 
verse.  For  his  own  part,  he  possessed  few  of  the  more 
essential  qualifications  of  a  poet.  '  His  poems  are  the 
plain  and  sensible  effusions  of  a  mind  never  hurried 
beyond  itself,  to  which  the  use  of  rhyme  adds  no  beauty, 
and  from  which  the  use  of  prose  would  detract  no  force.' ^ 
He  rests  for  his  fame  upon  other  qualities  than  those 
which  demand  enthusiasm  and  imaginative  power. 
Nevertheless,  the  closing  lines  of  his  Vanity  of  Human 
Wishes^  published  1749,  are  well  worthy  of  being 
quoted  : — 

Yet  when  the  sense  of  sacred  presence  fires, 
And  strong  devotion  to  the  skies  aspires, 
Four  forth  thy  fervour  for  a  healthful  mind 
Obedient  passions,  and  a  will  resign'd  ; 

^   Works  of  IV.  A/ason,  4^0.  -'  Ju.  ii.  131. 

-  An'-lerson's  Life  of  Johnson,  British  Poets,  vol.  xi.  p.  822. 


Old  English  Verse  2)79 

For  love,  which  scarce  collective  man  can  fill  ; 

For  faith,  that,  panting  for  a  happier  seat. 

Counts  death  kind  nature's  signal  of  retreat  : 

These  goods  for  man  the  laws  of  heav'n  ordain. 

These  goods  He  grants,  who  grants  the  power  to  gain  ; 

With  these  celestial  Wisdom  calms  the  mind, 

And  makes  the  happiness  she  does  not  find.^ 

Oliver  Goldsmith  (1729- 1774)  was  not  a  writer  of 
sacred  poetry.  But  the  pure  religious  tone  that  runs 
through  the  Deserted  Village^  and  the  graceful  picture 
it  contains  of  simple  unassuming  piety  place  it  on  the 
same  high  level  with  Gray's  Elegy.  Poems  such  as 
these  could  scarcely  fail  to  have  a  purifying  and  elevating 
influence  upon  the  taste  of  those  who  read  and  appre- 
ciated them.  William  Shenstone's  Schoobnistress,  pub- 
lished in  175 1,  is  a  work  of  somewhat  the  same  order, 
although  its  author  was  so  afraid  of  the  subject  not 
being  considered  dignified  enough  for  poetry,  that  he 
has  a  little  disguised,  under  a  certain  air  of  caricature, 
its  genuine  simplicity  and  pathos.  A  few  lines  from  it 
are  quoted  in  a  preceding  page.- 

Samuel  Boyse  (1708- 1749)  was  one  of  those  unhappy 
men  in  whom  good  impulses,  joined  to  a  weak  and  ill- 
regulated  disposition,  makes  life  a  sad  alternation  of 
better  purposes,  relapse,  and  poignant  repentance.  He 
lived  in  want,  and  died  a  pauper.  In  1741  he  published 
a  poem  upon  the  Attributes  of  Deity,  which  Fielding  has 
called  '  a  very  noble  one,'  of  which  Pope  said  that  it 
contained  lines  which  he  would  willingly  have  owned, 
and  which  James  Hervey  spoke  of  in  the  warmest  terms 
of  admiration.  This  poem  passed  through  a  third  edition 
in  1752.  Its  tone  is  devotional ;  its  language  an  easy- 
flowing  imitation  of  the  Essay  on  Man.  But,  notwith- 
standing contemporary  praise,  it  certainly  does  not  rise 
above  a  very  ordinary  level,  and  whatever  there  is  of 
'noble'  in  it  is  owing  simply  to  the  intrinsic  grandeur 
of  its  subject,  and  not  to  any  special  thought  or  capacity 
on  the  part  of  its  author. 

^  British  Poets,  vol.  xi.  p.  843.  '^  Ante,  p.  340. 


380  Religious  Thought  in 

William  Thompson,  Rector  of  Hampton  Poyle,  pub- 
lished in  1746  a  religious  poem  in  five  books  on  Sickness. 
It  is  found  in  the  Collection  of  English  Poets,  but  is  not 
very  noteworthy. 

Christopher  Smart  (1722-1771)^  was  a  writer  of  very 
considerable  genius.  At  Cambridge,  where  he  held  a 
fellowship  at  Pembroke  Hall,  he  five  times  took  the 
Seatonian  prize  for  a  poetical  essay  upon  a  sacred 
subject,  and  his  poems  are  among  the  best  of  that  series. 
There  is  a  want  of  carefulness  and  accuracy  about  them, 
but  much  talent,  and  the  glow  of  warm  religious  feeling. 
After  Smart  had  left  Cambridge,  where  he  had  become 
very  embarrassed  in  his  circumstances,  he  gained  a 
precarious  living  in  London  by  literary  work,  and  gained 
there  the  friendship  and  pity  of  Johnson,  Goldsmith, 
Garrick,  and  other  distinguished  men.  A  strong  pre- 
disposition to  insanity  will  excuse  the  fits  of  reckless 
extravagance  to  which  he  was  apt  to  give  way.  He 
composed  what  was  generally  considered  his  finest  poem, 
The  Soiig  of  David,  whilst  under  confinement  as  a 
lunatic,  indenting  the  lines  with  a  key  upon  the  wainscot. 

He  sung-  of  God,  the  mighty  source 
Of  all  things,  the  stupendous  force 

On  which  all  things  depend  : 
From  whose  right  arm,  beneath  whose  eyes. 
All  period,  power,  and  enterprise 

Commence,  and  reign,  and  end. 
The  world,  the  clustering  spheres  He  made. 
The  glorious  light,  the  soothing  shade. 

Dale,  champaign,  grove,  and  hill  ; 
The  multitudinous  abyss 
Where  Secrecy  remains  in  bliss, 

And  Wisdom  hides  her  skill. 
Tell  them  '  I  am,'  Jeho\ah  said 
To  Moses,  while  Earth  heard  in  dread, 

And  smitten  to  the  heart. 
At  once  above,  beneath,  around. 
All  nature,  without  voice  or  sound, 

Replied,  '  O  Lord,  Thou  art."-^     etc. 

^   British  Poets,  vol.  xi. 

■•*  The  poem,  published  in  pamphlet  form,  is  row  scarce,  but  may  be 
rend  in  full  in  Palgrave's  Golden  7'reasury. 


J 


Old  English  Verse  381 

Amid  all  his  failings,  to  whatever  extent  he  was  respon- 
sible for  them,  he  was  always  keenly  sensitive  to  the 
emotions  whether  of  friendship  or  religion.  He  would 
often  entreat  his  friends  to  pray  with  him  and  for  him,  and 
his  religious  poems  were  often  written  upon  his  knees. 
The  following  verses  are  from  the  closing  part  of  his 
hymn  on  recovery  from  illness,  a  poem  full  of  earnest- 
ness, and  containing  many  beautiful  lines  : — 

Ye  strengthened  feet,  forth  to  his  altar  move  ; 

Quicken,  ye  new-strung  nerves,  th'  enraptured  lyre  ; 
Ye  heaven-directed  eyes,  o'erflow  with  love  ; 

Glow,  glow,  my  soul,  with  pure  seraphic  fire  ; 
Deeds,  thoughts,  and  words,  no  more  his  mandate  break, 
But  to  his  endless  glory  work,  conceive,  and  speak. 
O  penitence  !  to  virtue  near  allied, 

Thou  canst  new  joys  e'en  to  the  blest  impart  ; 
The  listening  angels  lay  their  harps  aside 

To  hear  the  music  of  thy  contrite  heart  ; 
And  heaven  itself  wears  a  more  radiant  face, 
When  Charity  presents  thee  to  the  throne  of  grace. 

John  Byrom^  (1691-1763),  was  an  able  man,  a  Fellow 
of  the  Royal  Society,  a  Jacobite  in  politics,  warmly 
attached  to  the  Church  of  England,  yet  not  so  as  to  be 
blind  to  her  deficiencies.  He  had  many  sympathies  in 
common  with  the  Methodists  ;  but  found  teaching  far 
more  entirely  congenial  to  his  mind  in  the  writings  of 
William  Law  and  the  French  and  German  mystics. 
The  doctrines  most  completely  repugnant  to  him  were 
those  of  Calvinism,  and  views  such  as  were  held  by 
James  Hervey  and  others  on  justification  and  imputed 
merit.  For  the  rest,  he  was  an  earnest,  truth-loving 
man,  who  thought  much  for  himself  on  all  matters  con- 
nected with  religion,  and  had  little  in  common  with  the 
most  prevalent  phases  of  theological  thought.  As  a 
versifier,  he  has  embodied  many  sound  and  suggestive 
reflections  in  wretched  doggerel,  using  rhyme  as  a  mere 
convenience  of  form.  When,  however,  he  set  himself  to 
write  poetry  instead   of  metrical  essays,  he  showed  a 

1  Chalmers's  English  Poets,  vol.  xv. 


382  Religious  Thought  in 

power  and  depth  of  feeling  which  place  him  among  the 
foremost  writers  of  sacred  verse  in  the  last  century. 
The  following  is  entitled 

THE  DESPONDING  SOUL'S  WISH. 

My  spirit  longeth  for  Thee 

Within  my  troubled  breast ; 
Although  I  be  unworthy 

Of  so  Divine  a  guest. 

Of  so  Divine  a  guest 

Unworthy  though  I  be  ; 
Yet  has  my  heart  no  rest 

Unless  it  come  from  Thee. 

Unless  it  come  from  Thee 

In  vain  I  look  around  ; 
In  all  that  I  can  see, 

No  rest  is  to  be  found. 

No  rest  is  to  be  found 

But  in  Thy  blessed  love  ; 
O  let  my  wish  be  crown'd, 

And  send  it  from  above. 

Another  is  entitled 

THE   soul's  tendency  TOWARDS   ITS   TRUE  CENTRE 

Stones  towards  the  earth  descend  ; 

Rivers  to  the  ocean  roll ; 
Every  motion  has  some  end  ; 

What  is  thine,  beloved  soul  ? 

Mine  is,  where  my  Saviour  is  ; 

There  with  Him  I  hope  to  dwel  : 
Jesu  is  the  central  bliss  ; 

Love  the  force  that  doth  impel. 

Truly  thou  hast  answer'd  right : 

Now  may  Heaven's  attractive  grace 

Toward  the  source  of  thy  delight 
Speed  along  thy  quickening  pace 

Thank  Thee  for  thy  generous  care  ; 

Heaven,  that  did  the  wish  inspire 
Through  thy  instrumental  prayer, 

Plumes  the  wings  of  my  desire. 

Now  methinks,  aloft  I  fly  ; 

Now  with  angels  bear  a  part  : 
Glory  be  to  God  on  high, 

Peace  to  every  Christian  heart. 


I 


Old  English  Verse  383 

Perhaps,  however,  the  most  striking  part  of  John 
Byrom's  poetry  is  to  be  found  in  the  series  of  religious 
epigrams  under  the  heading  '  Miscellaneous  Pieces.' 
Three  of  them  must  be  quoted  : — 

Let  thy  repentance  be  without  delay. 
If  thou  defer  it  to  another  day, 
Thou  must  repent  for  one  day  more  of  sin, 
WTiile  a  day  less  remains  to  do  it  in. 

If  gold  be  offered  thee,  thou  dost  not  say, 
'  To-morrow  I  will  take  it,  not  to-day  : ' 
Salvation  offered,  why  art  thou  so  cool. 
To  let  thyself  become  to-morrow's  fool  ? 

Faith,  Hope,  and  Love  were  question'd  what  they  thought 

Of  future  glory,  which  religion  taught  : 

Now  Faith  believed  it  firmly  to  be  true, 

And  Hope  expected  so  to  find  it  too  ; 

Love  answered,  smiling  with  a  conscious  glow, 

'  Believe  ?  expect  ?  I  knoiv  it  to  be  true.' 

His  congregational  hymns  are  some  of  them  very 
indifferent.  Yet  sometimes,  as  in  that  beginning  '  The 
Lord  is  my  Shepherd,  His  goodness  my  song,'^  there 
is  a  swing  of  words  which  m.ay  cause  them  to  linger  in 
the  ear.  He  was  the  author  of  one  well-known  hymn, 
the  Christmas  carol  beginning, '  Christians,  awake,  salute 
the  happy  morn.' 

John  Gambold  (17 11- 1777)  is  entitled  to  rank  among 
the  best  writers  of  English  religious  poetry  in  the 
eighteenth  century.  He  lived  in  the  century,  but  he  was 
not  of  it.  His  heart  was  far  away  among  the  earlier 
fathers  of  the  Christian  Church,  so  that  those  about  him 
were  struck  by  what  seemed  to  them  a  curious  but 
agreeable  strangeness  in  his  thought  and  conversation, 
as  in  one  who  was  living  not  among  the  moderns,  but 
with  Polycarp  or  Ignatius  or  the  primitive  mystics. 
He  held  for  some  time  the  living  of  Stanton  Harcourt, 
in  Oxfordshire.  But  the  English  Church  of  that  era 
was  far  from  satisfying  his  ideas  of  what  a  Church 
should  be.     He  dearly  loved  its  Liturgy ;  he  preferred 

^  In  J.  Patrick's  Collection  of  Psalms,  1786. 


384  Religious  Thought  in 

no  other  ecclesiastical  order ;  he  had  no  dislike  to  its 
worship.  Only  '  he  longed  for  intimate  fellowship  with 
a  little  flock,  whose  great  concern  was  to  build  up  one 
another  in  faith.'  He  thought  he  had  discovered  this 
in  the  community  of  the  Moravian  Brethren  at  Herrn- 
hutt.  So  he  threw  up  his  English  benefice  and  joined 
them,  and  in  time  became  one  of  their  bishops,  never, 
however,  ceasing  to  regard  himself  as  a  member  of 
the  English  Church.  The  following  is  from  his  sacred 
tragedy  of  Ignatms : — 

Philo.—  Will  God 

E'en  yet  between  his  helpless  servants  stand 
And  a  black  day  ? 

Agathopus. —  A  glorious  day,  O  Philo, 

When  persecution  lowers  !     I  call  it  sunshine, 
Which  quickens  the  dull  bosom  of  the  Church 
To  bold  productions  and  a  bloom  of  virtues. 
Yes,  such  a  worthy  juncture  I  much  long  for, 
When  Christian  zeal,  benumb'd  and  dead  through  ease, 
Glows  with  young  life,  feels  the  more  copious  flow 
Of  ghostly  aids  ;  and,  as  the  dangers  rise, 
Heightens  its  pulse  and  fills  up  all  its  greatness. 
Then  is  the  time  of  crowns,  of  grants  profuse, 
Complete  remission,  open  Paradise, 
With  power  to  intercede  for  common  souls  ; 
For  generous  motives  of  intenser  duty, 
Which  while  the  sufferer  sees,  serene  and  glad. 
He  thanks  the  impious  hand  that  help'd  him  forward.^ 

James  Merrick  (1720- 1769),  a  fellow  of  Trinity 
College,  Oxford,  was  spoken  of  by  Bishop  Lowth  as 
'  one  of  the  best  of  men,  and  most  eminent  of  scholars.' 
His  talents  were  early  in  development.  At  the  age  of 
fourteen  he  published  the  Messiah,  a  Divine  Essay,  and 
while  he  was  still  a  boy  at  school  had  translated  Try- 
phiodorus,  and  was  carrying  on  a  correspondence  with 
Reimarus,  the  learned  professor  of  philosophy  at  Ham- 
burg.- He  is  best  known  by  his  paraphrases  of  the 
Canticles  and  Psalms.^     Their  fault  is  that  they  are  too 

^  Ignatius,  act  i.  sc.  I.  '  Southey's  Later  English  Poets,  ii.  391. 

^  J.  Merrick's  Poems  on  Sacred  Subjects,  1763.  The  Psalms  Translated 
and  Paraphrased,  1 765.  His  version  was  introduced  into  many  parish 
churches,  but  was  found  to  be  not  very  well  adapted  for  congregational  use. 


Old  English  Verse  385 

smooth,  too  elegant.     They  are  sorely  wanting  in  the 
nerve  and  majesty  of  the  original,  although,  considered 
by  themselves,  they  have  much  beauty. 
From  the  23d  Psalm  : — 

Lo,  my  Shepherd  is  divine, 
Care  shall  never  more  be  mine  ; 
In  His  pastures  free  and  large 
He  shall  tend  His  happy  charge. 

When  I  faint  with  summer  heat, 
He  shall  lead  my  weary  feet 
To  the  streams  that  still  and  slow 
O'er  the  verdant  meadows  flow. 


Till  my  latest  hour  draw  near 
I  will  trust  my  Shepherd's  care  ; 
To  my  succour  He  will  come 
And  conduct  me  safely  home.^ 

From  one  of  his  hymns  : — 

Lord,  let  Thy  fear  within  us  dwell, 

Thy  love  our  footsteps  guide  : 
That  love  will  all  vain  love  expel. 

That  fear  all  fear  besides. 

Not  what  we  wish,  but  what  we  want, 

Oh  let  Thy  grace  supply  : 
The  good  unasked  in  mercy  grant. 

The  ills,  though  asked,  deny.- 

That  extraordinary  youth,  Thomas  Chatterton  (1752- 
1770),  whose  boyish  productions  caused  such  stir  in 
the  literary  world,  and  whose  unhappy  death  has  always 
seemed  so  piteous,  must  not  be  passed  over  without 
some  short  mention.  It  is  useless  to  conjecture  what 
might  have  been  the  ultimate  character  of  this  child  of 
impulse.  His  proud,  fiery  genius,  so  restless  as  scarcely 
to  allow  even  of  the  most  necessary  minimum  of  sleep,^ 
struggling  without  any  audible  murmur  against  neglect, 

^  Poems  on  Sacred  Subjects^  by  J.  Merrick,  1763,  13. 

■•^  In  Godfrey  Thring's  Church  of  England  Hymn- Book,  No.  281. 

^  A  friend,  who  shared  his  room,  said  that  he  never  went  to  bed  till 
very  late,  often  not  till  three  or  four,  and  always  got  up  with  him  at  five 
or  six. — Anderson's  Life  of  Chatterton  {Brit.  Poets,  vol.  xi.  p.  308) 

2  B 


386  Religious  Thought  in 

indigence,  and  starvation,  was  sometimes  tempted  to 
defiant  rebellion  against  God's  will.  Yet  his  life  was 
pure,  temperate,  and  amiable  ;  and  the  pathetic  religious 
feelings  which  he  has  expressed  in  some  of  his  verses 
might  encourage  the  hope  that  the  licentious  impieties, 
to  which  in  certain  moods  he  gave  utterance,  were 
transient  workings  of  an  evil  power  which  would  have 
succumbed  in  later  years  to  holier  influences. 

The  following  four  verses  are  from  The  Resignation  : — 

O  God,  whose  justice  shakes  the  sky  ; 

Whose  eye  this  atom  globe  surveys  : 
To  Thee,  my  only  rock,  I  fly, 

Thy  mercy  in  Thy  justice  praise. 

The  mystic  mazes  of  Thy  will, 

The  shadows  of  celestial  light, 
Are  past  the  power  of  human  skill — 

But  what  th'  Eternal  acts  is  right. 

O  teach  me,  in  the  trying  hour, 
When  anguish  swells  the  dewy  tear, 

To  still  my  sorrows,  own  Thy  power. 
Thy  goodness  love.  Thy  justice  fear. 

The  gloomy  mantle  of  the  night, 
Which  on  my  sinking  spirit  steals, 

Will  vanish  at  the  morning  light, 

Which  God,  my  East,  my  Sun,  reveals.^ 

Dr.  Johnson,  remarking  one  day  (May  15,  1784)  that 
he  had  been  dining  at  Mrs.  Garrick's,  with  Mrs.  Carter, 
Miss  Hannah  More,  and  Miss  Fanny  Burney,  added 
that  three  such  women  were  not  to  be  found  ;  except 
Mrs.  Lennox,  he  did  not  know  where  he  could  find  a 
fourth.2  The  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Carter  there  mentioned 
was  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  talented  women  in 
the  last  century.  Garrick,  in  his  epilogue  to  T/ie  In- 
flexible Captive^  spoke  of  her  with  admiration  as  one — 

Who,  rich  in  knowledge,  knows  no  pride. 
Can  boast  ten  tongues,  and  yet  not  satisfied.^ 

^  Brit.  Poets,  vol.  xi.  p.  399.  -  BosvieWs  Johnson,  iv.  244. 

'  Hannah  More's  IVorks,  \i.  384. 


Old  English  Verse  387 

We  find  from  a  Russian  review,  written  in  May  1759, 
that  the  fame  of  her  extensive  linguistic  acquirements 
in  Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  French,  ItaHan,  Spanish,  and 
German  had  reached  that  country.^  She  published, 
when  scarcely  over  twenty,  a  volume  on  Sight  and 
Colour  according  to  the  Newtonian  philosophy,  con- 
tributed some  papers  to  the  Rambler,  etc.,  translated 
Arrian  and  Epictetus,  and  was  also  well  skilled  in  most 
feminine  accomplishments.  She  was  born  at  Deal, 
where  her  father  was  Rector,  in  17 17,  and  died  in  18 16. 
In  her  poems,  written  at  various  intervals  between  1735 
and  1795,  and  published  in  two  volumes,  there  is  no 
pretension  to  deep  thought  or  great  imaginative  power, 
but  a  good  deal  of  tranquil  beauty.  She  constantly 
alludes  to  the  calm  of  night  or  of  evening,  as  if  it  had 
a  special  fascination  for  her.  A  feeling  congenial  with 
it  pervades  her  verses,  and  gives  them  a  subdued  tone 
which  is  rather  monotonous.  There  breathes  through- 
out them  all  a  gentle  religious  sentiment.  An  elegy, 
written  something  after  the  manner  of  Gray,  beginning 
'  Silent  and  cool  the  dews  of  evening  pale,'  is  one  of  the 
most  pleasing  of  her  compositions. 

Nothing  has  been  said  hitherto  of  that  great  burst 
of  hymnody  to  which  the  Methodist  and  Evangelical 
revival  gave  rise.  Among  these  writers  of  hymns 
Charles  Wesley  stands  of  course  pre-eminent.  The 
number  he  wrote  is  something  amazing.  In  more  than 
forty  different  publications,  exclusive  of  mere  selections 
from  former  works,  he  sent  out  into  the  world,  between 
1738  and  1785,  4100  hymns,  and  upwards  of  two  thou- 
sand more  were  left  at  his  death  in  manuscript.^  Many 
of  these  must  be  placed  in  the  highest  order  of  devotional 
poetry.  A  widespread  and  passionate  movement  of 
feeling,  of  whatever  kind  it  may  be,  rarely  fails  of  evok-- 
ing  a  poetical  expression  corresponding  to  it.  But,  as 
Isaac  Taylor  has  observed,  it  certainly  seems  a  remark- 

^  Quoted  in  Mrs.  Carter's  Life  and  Works,  ii.  417. 
2  Lyra  Britannica,  C.  Wesley. 


388  Religious  Thought  in 

able  providence  that  '  when  myriads  of  uncultured  and 
lately  ferocious  spirits  were  to  be  reclaimed,  a  gift  of 
song  such  as  that  of  Charles  Wesley  should  have  been 
conferred  upon  one  of  the  company  employed  in  the 
work,'^  Without  it,  Methodism  could  scarcely  have 
been  the  power  that  it  was.  When  the  voice  of  the 
great  popular  preachers  no  longer  rang  in  the  ear,  and 
the  ardent  feeling  they  had  stimulated  was  fading  away, 
the  hymns  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  awakened 
hearers, — hymns  differing  almost  in  kind  from  any  they 
had  known  before.  *  It  may  be  affirmed,'  adds  the 
author  just  quoted,  'that  there  is  no  principal  element 
of  Christianity,  no  main  article  of  belief,  as  professed 
by  Protestant  churches, —  that  there  is  no  moral  or 
ethical  sentiment,  peculiarly  characteristic  of  the  Gospel, 
— no  height  or  depth  of  feeling  proper  to  the  spiritual 
life,  that  does  not  find  itself  emphatically  and  pointedly 
and  clearly  conveyed  in  some  stanzas  of  Charles  Wesley's 
hymns.'-  John  Wesley  had  no  idea  of  their  simply 
constituting  a  part  of  Christian  worship,  as  songs  of 
adoration  and  praise.  He  expressly  called  them  '  a 
body  of  experimental  and  practical  divinity.'  ^  They 
formed  a  sort  of  supplemental  Liturgy,  thoroughly 
consonant,  as  a  whole,  in  tone  and  spirit  to  the  familiar 
prayers  which  were  heard  in  the  parish  churches  (for  the 
Wesleys — and  Charles  even  more  than  his  brother — 
were  Churchmen  to  the  backbone),  but  specially  adapted 
to  keep  alive  the  new  spiritual  impulse  which  had  pro- 
duced such  great  effects.  Personal  and  experimental, 
like  the  Psalms  of  David,  they  were  also  penetrated  with 
the  most  vivid  Christian  feeling  ;  and  if  a  few  of  them 
displayed  a  warmth  of  ardour  which  exceeded  the 
ordinary  bounds  of  sober  religion,  and  disqualified  them 
for  being  properly  used  in  congregational  worship,  such 
incongruity  would  be  less  apparent  in  the  more  excited 
atmosphere  of  the  class   meeting.     As  appropriate  to 

^   Wesley  and  Methodism,  90.  -  Id.  gi, 

^  John  Wesley's  Preface  to  edition  of  1779. 


1 


Old  English  Verse  389 

peculiar  cases,  words  could  scarcely  be  too  glowing  for 
those  who  felt  that  in  very  truth  a  new  and  heavenly 
life,  of  which  they  had  before  known  nothing,  had 
indeed  been  born  anew  in  them.  And  Charles  Wesley's 
hymns  rarely  offend  by  anything  like  the  sentimentality 
and  overwrought  effusiveness  which  Watts  sometimes 
permitted  himself,  and  which  were  common  in  some  of 
the  Moravian  ones.  Very  objectionable  rhapsodies 
found  their  way  into  some  of  the  Methodist  hymn- 
books  ;  but  John  Wesley,  especially  in  his  later  years, 
was  very  careful  to  expunge  these,  so  far  as  he  could 
bring  them  under  his  censorship.  In  this,  as  in  many 
other  ways,  Methodism  owed  not  a  little  to  the  sound 
practical  sense  which  never  for  long  together  forsook 
him.  It  owed  scarcely  less  to  the  cultivated  ear  and 
refined  taste  which  chastened  the  devout  outpourings  of 
his  brother's  poetic  talent. 

Southey  has  remarked  of  Wesley's  hymns,  that  pro- 
bably no  poems  have  been  so  much  treasured  \\\  the 
memory,  or  so  frequently  quoted  on  a  death-bed.^  As 
long  as  time  lasts,  many  of  them  are  sure  to  hold  an 
honoured  place  as  a  part  of  the  heritage  of  the  Christian 
Church.  'Jesus!  Lover  of  my  Soul,'  is  perhaps  the 
favourite  among  them  all.  This  exquisite  hymn  fully 
deserves  the  admiration  it  has  universally  obtained. 
John  Wesley  thought  that  the  funeral  hymn  '  Come,  let 
us  join  our  friends  above '  was  the  sweetest  of  all  that 
his  brother  wrote.'^  Popular  opinion  is  quite  at  one  with 
him  as  to  its  merits.  It  is  probably  in  almost  all  col- 
lections, but  is  less  known  by  its  first  line  than  by  some 
which  follow,  as  for  instance  the  verses  beginning  '  One 
family,  we  dwell  in  Him.'  Another  which  he  was 
particularly  fond  of,  and  'which  Watts,  with  great 
nobility  of  spirit,  said  was  worth  all  the  verses  which  he 
himself  had  ever  written,'  ^  is  the  sacred  poem  (for  it  is 
that  rather  than  a  hymn)  upon  the  wrestling  of  Jacob 

^  Referred  to  in  Oxford  Essays^  1858,  p.  126. 

2  Saunders,  321.  "  ^  Id.  322. 


390  Religious  Thought  in 

with  the  Angel,  '  Come,  O  thou  traveller  unknown. 
Among  his  best-known  hymns  may  be  mentioned  also, 
'  Fonh  in  Thy  name,  O  Lord,  I  go,' — verses  full  of  pure 
and  sober  piety, — '  O  Love  divine,  how  sweet  thou  art !' 
*  Hark,  the  herald  angels  sing,' ^  'Thou  Judge  of  quick 
and  dead/  *  The  heavens  declare  Thy.  glory,  Lord,'  '  O 
for  a  thousand  tongues  to  sing,'  '  Rejoice,  the  Lord 
is  King,'  '  Christ,  whose  glory  fills  the  skies,'  '  Hail,  the 
day  that  sees  Him  rise,'  '  Spirit  of  Truth,'  'O  for  a  heart 
to  praise  my  God,'  '  Soldier  of  Christ,  arise.'  Among 
other  hymns  must  be  mentioned  the  one  containing  the 
beautiful  verses  : — 

Take  my  soul  and  body's  powers  ; 

Take  my  memory,  mind,  and  will, 
All  my  goods,  and  all  my  hours, 

All  I  know  and  all  I  feel, 
All  I  think  or  speak  or  do  ; 
Take  my  heart  ; — but  make  it  new. 

O  my  God,  Thine  own  I  am  : 
Let  me  give  me  back  thine  own  ; 

Freedom,  friends,  and  health,  and  fame, 
Consecrate  to  Thee  alone  ; 

Thine  to  live,  thrice  happy  I  ! 

Happier  still  if  Thine  I  die  I^ 

A  simple  and  very  pretty  hymn  for  children  begins, 
'Gentle  Jesus,  meek  and  mild.'  The  last  seven,  which 
arc  also  among  the  best,  of  its  fourteen  stanzas  may 
be  found  in  Lord  Selborne's  Book  of  Praise?  It  is  a 
great  recommendation  to  the  hymns  of  both  Wesleys, 
that  although  they  are  often  mystical  in  tone,  and  appeal 
persistently  to  the  feelings,  they  are  thoroughly  prac- 
tical, never  losing  sight  of  active  Christian  morality. 

The  doctrine  of  progress  to  perfection  has  a  large 
part  in  these  hymns.  It  may  be  too  sanguine  a  creed, 
and  one  that  rests  on  insufficient  foundations ;  it  may 

^  C.  Wesley's  own  words,  however,  were — 

Hark,  how  all  the  welk'n  rings, 
Glury  to  the  King  of  kings  ! 

-  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,  636. 

'  No.  cclxxxviii.,  '  Lamb  of  God,  I  look  to  Thee.' 


Old  English  Verse  391 

be  liable  to  the  danger  of  encouraging  self-delusion  and 
presumption  ;  but  at  all  events,  it  is  a  tenet  that  contains 
many  elements  of  a  truly  noble  faith.  However  varied 
according  to  different  minds  the  possible  ideal  may  be 
towards  which  we  should  aspire  to  advance,  the  hope  of 
a  near  approximation  to  it  through  the  aid  of  a  Divine 
grace — a  hope  too  from  which  none  are  absolutely  ex- 
cluded— seems  strongly  adapted  both  to  encourage 
nobler  conceptions  of  what  human  nature  can  be  en- 
abled to  do,  and  to  elicit  a  more  trustful  and  loving 
dependence  upon  the  Power  without  whose  support  all 
such  aspirations  are  vain.^  But,  without  entering  into 
the  doctrinal  question,  it  is  at  all  events  historically 
evident  that  the  theory  of  Christian  perfection  exercised 
an  immense  influence  on  the  minds  both  of  John  and 
Charles  Wesley,  and  that  it  gives  a  marked  general 
character  to  their  hymns.  Thus  we  find  such  lines  as 
these : — 

Lord,  I  believe  a  rest  remains 

To  all  Thy  people  known  ; 
A  rest  where  pure  enjoyment  reigns, 

And  Thou  art  loved  alone  ; — 

A  rest  where  all  our  soul's  desire 

Is  fix'd  on  things  above  ; 
Where  doubt,  and  pain,  and  fear  expire. 

Cast  out  by  perfect  love.^ 

John  Wesley  was  careful,  however,  to  add,  in  his  preface 
to  the  hymns  of  1742,  that  perfection  does  not  exempt 
from  ignorance,  mistake,  temptation,  and  a  thousand 
necessary  infirmities,  nor  did  it  dispense  from  any  of  the 
ordinances. 

Some   of    the   most    beautiful   of  Charles   Wesley's 

^  The  Wesleyan  tenet,  starting  from  a  wholly  individual  point  of  view, 
may  be  compared  with  the  no  less  invigorating  opinion  of  a  possible  pro- 
gress towards  ultimate  perfection  on  the  part  of  the  human  race,  as 
entertained  by  Wesley's  contemporaries,  W.  Worthington  {Essays  on 
Redemption,  47)  and  Bishop  Law  {Considerations  on  Religio?i,  advert,  and 
pp.  205-22). 

'■^  Last  hymn  in  vol.  of  174 1  :  quoted  in  J.  Wesley's  '  Plain  Account  of 
Christian  Perfection,'  Works,  vol.  xi.  p.  382. 


392  Religious  Thought  in 

hymns,  considered  as  devotional  poems  for  private  use, 
are  noticeable  for  the  quietist  or  semi-mystical  tone  of 
piety  which  pervades  them.  Such  is  the  hymn  be- 
ginning 'Christ,  my  hidden  Life,  appear.'^ 

Charles  Wesley  must  not  be  passed  without  a  reference 
to  the  last  lines  written  to  his  dictation  as  he  lay  in 
extreme  feebleness,  a  short  time  before  his  death  : — 

Jesus,  my  only  hope  Thou  art. 
Strength  of  my  faihng  flesh  and  heart : 
Oh,  could  I  catch  a  smile  from  Thee, 
And  drop  into  Eternity  !  ^ 

John  Wesley  contributed  some  original  hymns,  but 
they  are  not  distinguished  from  those  which  his  brother 
wrote,  and,  with  a  few  exceptions,  it  is  not  known  which 
they  are.  All  the  translations  from  the  German,  twenty- 
nine  in  number,  are  his,  as  well  as  two  from  the  French, 
and  one  from  the  Spanish.  Some  of  these  translations 
are  very  beautiful.  Such,  for  instance,  is  the  stanza 
which  Richard  Cobden  is  said  to  have  repeated  with  his 
last  breath  : — 

Thee  will  I  love,  my  joy,  my  Crown, 
Thee  will  I  love,  my  Lord,  my  God  : 

Thee  will  I  love  beneath  Thy  frown 
Or  smile,  Thy  sceptre,  or  Thy  rod  : 

What  though  my  heart  and  flesh  decay  ? 

Thee  shall  I  love  in  endless  day.^ 

Such,  again,  is  that  from  Paul  Gerhardt,  beginning  : — 

Commit  thou  all  thy  griefs 
And  ways  into  His  hands  : 
To  His  sure  truth  and  tender  care, 
Who  earth  and  heaven  commands  ;  * 

or  that  from  the  German  of  Johan  Scheffler,  which 
begins  and  ends  with  the  verse  : — 

O  God,  of  good  the  unfathom'd  sea  ! 
Who  would  not  give  his  heart  to  Thee  ? 

Who  would  not  love  Thee  with  his  might  ? 

^  Lord  Selborne's  Book  of  Praise,  ccclvii. 

2  F.  Saunders's  Evenings,  etc. ,  323. 

3  S.  W.  Christopher's  Hymn  Writers  and  their  Hyjnm^  16. 
*  Book  of  Praise,  ccccvi. 


Old  English  Verse  393 

O  Jesu,  Lover  of  mankind  I 
Who  would  not  his  whole  soul  and  mind 
With  all  his  strength  to  Thee  unite  ?  ^ 

Among  his  original  hymns  is  a  very  fine  one  written 
upon  the  death  of  Whitefield,  beginning — 

Servant  of  God,  well  done  ! 

Thy  gloiious  warfare  's  past  ! 
The  battle  fought,  the  race  is  run, 

And  thou  art  crown'd  at  last.^ 

Among  other  Methodist  writers  must  be  mentioned 
first  of  all  William  Williams  (1727- 1791).  He  was  a 
clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  adhered  to 
its  communion.^  Relinquishing  the  cure  to  which  he 
had  been  ordained,  he  spent  fifty  years  as  an  itinerant 
preacher  in  the  Principality.  The  two  hymns  by  which 
he  is  best  known  in  England  are,  '  Guide  me,  O  thou 
Great  Jehovah,'  and  '  O'er  those  gloomy  hills  of  darkness. 
The  latter  is  a  fine  missionary  hymn  :  and  both  are 
from  the  Welsh,  translated  either  by  himself  or  by 
William  Evans.* 

Robert  Seagrave,  a  Cambridge  graduate,  who  joined 
the  Methodist  movement  at  an  early  stage,  published 
his  Hymns  for  Christian  Worship  in  1742.  Many  of 
them  are  very  indifferent,  but  there  is  one  good  hymn 
entitled  The  Pilgrim's  Song  ('  Rise  my  soul,  and  stretch 
thy  wings'). 

John  Cennick  (1717-1755)  and  William  Hammond 
(d.  1783)  were  both  Methodists  for  a  time,  and  after- 
wards Moravians.  The  former  published  his  hymns  in 
1 74 1 -4.  There  is  much  beauty  in  one  or  two  of  them, 
as  : — 

Children  of  the  heavenly  King, 
As  ye  journey,  sweetly  sing  : 
Sing  your  Saviour's  worthy  praise, 
Glorious  in  His  works  and  ways. 


I 


^  C.  Rogers's  Lyi-a  Britannica,  p.  624. 

2  C.  B.  Pearson,  Oxford  Essays,  1858,  p.  149. 

2  H.  S.  Skeats'  Hist,  of  the  Free  Churches,  p.  406. 

*  C.  Rogers's  Lyra  Brit.  p.  630. 


394  Religious  Thought  in 

We  are  travelling  home  to  God, 
In  the  way  our  fathers  trod  ; 
They  are  happy  now,  and  we 
Soon  their  happiness  shall  see.^ 

Hammond  was  one  of  the  Cambridge  Methodists,  and 
a  man  of  some  scholarship.  His  hymns,  published  in 
1745,  are  some  of  them  much  wanting  in  dignity.  His 
best  are  perhaps  the  one  beginning — 

Awake,  and  sing  the  song 
Of  Moses  and  the  Lamb, 
Wake  every  heart  and  every  tongue 
To  praise  the  Saviour's  Name. 

Sing  of  His  dying  love  ; 
Sing  of  His  rising  power  ; 
Sing  how  he  intercedes  above 
For  those  whose  sins  He  bore. 

Smg,  till  we  feel  our  hearts 
Ascending  with  our  tongues  ; 
Sing,  till  the  love  of  sin  departs. 
And  Grace  inspires  our  songs.- 

Thomas  OHvers  (1725-99)  was  a  shoemaker  by  trade, 
who  had  been  converted  from  a  dissolute  life^  by  the 
preaching  of  Whitefield.  As  an  assistant  to  Wesley, 
he  was  indefatigable  in  the  itinerant  ministry,  travelling 
it  is  said  no  less  than  100,000  miles  on  horseback  in 
twenty-five  years.  He  afterwards  held  a  fixed  appoint- 
ment in  Wesley's  printing-office.  He  was  the  author 
of  a  very  fine  hymn  or  sacred  poem,  entitled  The  God 
of  Abraham.  A  musical  service,  by  which  he  had  been 
much  impressed,  at  the  Jewish  Synagogue  in  West- 
minster, suggested  it  to  him,  and  he  obtained  the 
ancient  melody  from  Leoni,  the  presiding  Rabbi.* 
Montgomery  considered  that  there  was  not  in  our 
language  'a  lyric  of  more  majestic  style,  more  elevated 
thought,  or  more  glorious  imagery.' ''     It  is  said  to  have 

^  Book  of  Praise,  cxxvi.  ^  Id.  cxxvii. 

^  See  a  curious  conversation  with  Toplady  :  Toplady's  Works,  vi.  172. 

•*  Lyra  Brit.,  note  670 ;  Saunders's  Evenings^  etc.  328. 

°  Quoted  by  Saunders,  id. 


Old  English  Verse  395 

had  some  influence  in  giving  Henry  Martyn  an  impulse 
to  missionary  work.^  The  following  are  three  stanzas 
of  it  :— 

The  God  of  Abraham  praise, 
Who  reigns  enthroned  above  ; 
Ancient  of  everlasting  days, 
And  God  of  love  ! 
Jehovah  !  Great  I  Am  ! 
By  earth  and  heaven  confest ; 
I  bow  and  bless  the  sacred  name, 
For  ever  blest ! 

The  God,  who  reigns  on  high. 
The  great  Archangels  sing  ; 
And  '  Holy,  holy,  holy,'  cry, 
'  Almighty  King  ! 
Who  was,  and  is,  the  same. 
And  evermore  shall  be  ! 
Jehovah  !  Father  !  Great  I  Am  I 
We  worship  Thee.' 

The  whole  triumphant  host 
Give  thanks  to  God  on  high  ; 
'Hail,  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost  !' 
They  ever  cry  : 
Hail  !  Abraham's  God  and  mine  ! 
I  join  the  heavenly  lays  ; 
All  might  and  majesty  are  Thine, 
And  endless  praise  !  ^ 

Olivers's  hymn,  '  Lo !  He  comes  with  clouds  descend- 
ing,' may  be  found  in  the  Book  of  Praise  side  by 
side^  with  the  finer  and  better-known  version  from 
Thomas  of  Celano,  beginning  with  the  same  words, 
which  Madan  compiled  out  of  an  amalgamation  of  the 
compositions  of  Charles  Wesley  and  Cennick. 

John  Bakewell  ( 172 1 -18 19)  was  another  friend  and 
coadjutor  of  the  Wesleys,  as  also  of  Toplady  and  others 
of  the  Evangelical  party.  The  hymn  by  which  he  is 
most  known  is  the  one  beginning  '  Hail,  Thou  once 
despised  Jesus.'* 

^  Saunders's  Evenings  luith  the  Sacred  Poets. 

-  Lyra  Brit.  450  ;  Book  of  Praise,  ccccxi.        ^  Book  of  Praise,  xc,  xci. 

^  Lyra  Brit.  29  ;  Book  of  Praise,  Ixxi. 


396  Religious  Thought  in 

John  Berridge  (17 16-1793)  ^^as  Vicar  of  Everton,  and 
one  of  the  most  popular  of  the  Methodist  preachers. 
He  did  not,  however,  dissociate  himself  from  the  English 
Church.  Like  Rowland  Hill,  who  looked  up  to  him  as 
a  friend  and  valued  counsellor,  he  was  a  man  of  eccentric 
temperament,  but  of  profound  piety  and  indefatigable 
zeal.  His  SiorCs  Songs  were  published  in  1785.  Many 
of  them  are  only  versions  of  older  compositions  ;  one, 
for  instance,  of  his  best — 

Jesus,  cast  a  look  on  me  ; 
Give  me  sweet  simplicity  ^ — 

is  altered  from  a  hymn  of  Charles  Wesley.  Among 
those  of  which  he  was  the  sole  author,  the  best  is  one 
which  begins,  '  O  happy  saints  who  dwell  in  light' ^ 

Commander  Kempenfelt  (1718-1782),  of  the  'Royal 
George,'  was  an  associate  of  Whitefield  and  the  Wesleys 
and  a  hymn-writer,  as  it  appears,  under  the  name  of 
*  Philotheorus.'  Three  of  his  hymns  are  given  in  the 
Lyra  Britannica.  The  most  striking  of  them  is  entitled 
The  Alarniy  and  begins — 

Hark  I  'tis  the  trump  of  God 
Sounds  through  the  realms  abroad, 
Time  is  no  more  I  ^ 

Rowland  Hill  (1744-1833)  was  not  what  may  be  called 
a  Methodist  Churchman  quite  in  the  sense  that  the 
Wesleys,  William  Williams,  Berridge,  and  others  were. 
He  was  an  ardent  Calvinist,  vehemently  opposed  to 
Wesley,^  and  holding  opinions  similar  to  those 
maintained  by  Whitefield  among  the  Methodists,  and 
Toplady  among  the  Evangelicals.  Notwithstanding 
the  strong  opposition  which  his  Methodism  excited, 
his  attachment  to  the  Church  of  England  remained  for 
a  long  time  unabated.  In  1773,  three  years  after  the 
time  when  he  had  been  spoken  of  as  VVhitefield's 
probable  successor,  he  was  ordained  to  the   curacy  of 

^  Lyra  Brit.  56  ;  Book  of  Praise,  cc. 

-  Lyra  Brit.  57,  and  note  664  ;  Book  of  Praise,  cxiii. 

•*'  Lyra  Brit.  349.  *  Toplady's  Works,  vi.  172. 


k 


Old  English  Verse  397 

Kingston  in  Somersetshire.  He  commenced  itinerant 
preaching  within  a  year  afterwards,  but  it  was  not  until 
1780  that  he  contemplated  the  necessity  of  exercising 
his  ministry  outside  the  pale  of  the  national  church.^ 
To  the  last  he  never  considered  himself  as  altogether 
dissevered  from  it ;  but  outliving  as  he  did,  by  more 
than  a  generation,  the  final  breach  between  it  and 
Methodism  which  followed  upon  John  Wesley's  death, 
he  could  scarcely  be  regarded  throughout  all  the  latter 
years  of  his  life  as  other  than  a  Nonconformist.  It  was 
the  misfortune,  or  the  fault,  of  the  Church  of  England 
that  there  was  no  provision  in  it  for  such  men  as  he, 
although  he  was  one  of  whom  any  church  might  have 
been  proud.  The  independent  and  ambiguous  position 
which  he  assumed,  as  theoretically  a  Churchman,  and 
practically  a  Dissenter — '  a  Dissenter  within  the  Church, 
a  Churchman  among  Dissenters  '  ^ — was  one  that  could 
not  be  recognised  without  such  an  extension  in  the 
system  of  the  National  Church  as  seems  even  yet  un- 
likely to  be  carried  out,  and  was  still  more  unlikely 
then.  The  impressive,  witty,  and  warm-hearted  preacher 
of  the  Surrey  Chapel  could  do  something  to  lower  the 
'  walls  of  partition,'  ^  to  remove  prejudices,  and  to 
habituate  his  congregation  not  to  the  order  only,  but  in 
a  great  degree  to  the  spirit  also  of  the  English  liturgy. 
He  could  not  do  much  more  for  a  Church  from  which 
he  had  received  such  ill  usage,  but  from  which  he  never 
altogether  withdrew  his  attachment. 

One  of  Rowland  Hill's  best  hymns — '  We  sing  His 
love  who  once  was  slain' — was  published  in  1774,  at 
the  end  of  a  sermon  for  the  poor.^  The  fine  hymn, 
*  Lo !  round  the  throne  a  glorious  band,'  is  mainly  his. 
His  Divine  Hymns  for  Ckildren  were  designed  as  an 
appendix  to  those  of  Dr.  Watts,^  to  which  he  was 
accustomed  to  attribute  the  strong  religious  impressions 

^  V.  J.  Charles,  Life  and  Sayings  of  Rowland  Hill,  34. 

2  Cabinet  Annual  Register  for  1833,  quoted  in  id.  76.        ^  Id.  60. 

^  Josiah  Miller,  Our  Hymns,  241. 

^  Preface  to  his  Divine  Hymns,  second  ed.  1 794. 


39^  Religious  Thought  in 

he  had  received  while  he  was  yet  quite  a  child.^  They 
were  corrected  by  Cowper,  and  published  in  1790.  A 
Christmas  hymn,  the  39th,  is  perhaps  the  best,  but  they 
are  all  rather  heavy,  and  not  likely  to  be  very  attractive 
to  the  young.  A  hymn  of  some  merit,  beginning 
'  Exalted  high  at  God's  right  hand,'  ^  appeared  in  a 
collection  published  by  him  in  1783. 

The  impulse  excited  by  the  Methodist  revival  gave 
rise  to  many  hymn-writers  in  the  ranks  of  Dissent. 
It  must  be  sufficient  to  mention  some  of  the  principal 
ones. 

Robert  Robinson  (173 5- 1790)  had  been  moved  to  a 
religious  life  by  the  preaching  of  Whitefield.  A  Cal- 
vinistic  Methodist  at  first,  he  passed  through  various 
phases  of  Baptist,Congregational,and  Unitarian  opinion.^ 
The  two  hymns  by  which  he  is  best  known  are,  '  Come, 
thou  fount  of  every  blessing,'  *  and  a  Christmas  hymn 
of  much  beauty,  beginning,  '  Mighty  God,  while  angels 
bless  Thee.'  ^  To  these  may  be  added  a  third,  assigned 
to  him  in  Rippon's  Selection,  '  Christ  the  Lord  is  risen 
to-day.'  6 

Joseph  Hart  (171 2-1768)  published,  in  1759,  a  book 
of  original  hymns  which  he  prefaced  with  a  remarkable 
sketch  of  his  own  spiritual  experiences."  He  tells  how 
he  was  stirred  in  the  midst  of  a  licentious  life  by  the 
preaching  of  Whitefield  and  the  Moravians  ;  how  after- 
wards he  entertained  horrible  ideas  of  liberty,  and 
plunged  into  wild  Antinomianism ;  and  he  gives  a 
strange  account,  which  might  have  been  penned  by 
Bunyan,  of  a  fierce  struggle  between  good  and  evil 
raging  in  an  impassioned  and  hitherto  uncontrolled 
nature,  which   has   suddenly  awakened   to   an   intense 

^  Charlesworth,  Life  of  Rev.  Rowland  Hill,  p.  5. 

2  Book  of  Praise,  cxii.  ;  Lyra  Brit.  309. 

^  Lyra  Brit. ,  479  ;  Saunders,  349. 

*  Lyra  Brit,  appendix,  671-2,  and  680.  ^  Id.  480. 

^  J.  Rippon,  Selection  of  Hymns  (ist  ed.  1787),  cxli :  it  is  given  in  the 
Book  of  Praise  (lix.)  and  elsewhere,  as  Charles  Wesley's. 

''  Hynms  composed  on  Various  Subjects,  by  J.  Hart,  containing  a  brief 
and  summary  account  of  the  auth"r.  1759- 


Old  English  Verse  399 

perception  of  awful  spiritual  realities.^  His  hymns  are 
sometimes,  as  might  be  expected,  too  personal,  and 
occasionally  they  are  too  didactic.  Moreover,  they 
often  assume  the  utter  vileness  of  an  '  unconverted ' 
nature.  But  some  of  them  glow  with  warmth  and 
simple  earnestness. 

He  was  the  author  of  a  good  hymn,  'Come,  Holy 
Spirit,  come ;  let  Thy  bright  beams  arise,'  -  which  is 
sometimes  called  the  Methodist  version  of  the  Veni 
Creator.  Another  of  his  hymns  is,  'Spirit  of  Truth, 
Thy  grace  impart.'^  Joseph  Hart  was,  however,  not  a 
Methodist,  but  an  Independent,  a  community  among 
whom  his  memory  is  much  honoured.* 

The  poems  and  hymns  of  Anne  Steele  (17 17-1778) 
were  published  by  her  in  1760,  in  two  volumes,  under 
the  name  of  Theodosia.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a 
Baptist  minister,  of  whose  uncle  Burnet  once  said,  when 
a  clergyman  complained  that  his  parishioners  left  their 
parish  church  to  hear  him,  '  Go,  and  preach  better  than 
Henry  Steele,  and  the  people  will  return.'  ^  She  bore 
with  exemplary  patience  a  life  of  much  physical  suffer- 
ing ;  and  her  hymns,  in  some  of  which  there  is  a  good 
deal  of  subdued  and  plaintive  beauty,  bear  the  traces  of 
it.  Among  the  best  are,  *  Come,  weary  souls,  with  sin 
distress'd,'  ^  '  Father,  whate'er  of  earthly  bliss,'  ^  *  Far 
from  these  narrow  scenes  of  night,'  ^  '  Father  of  mercies, 
in  Thy  word,'  ^  and  '  O  Thou  whose  tender  mercy 
hears.'  10 

Samuel  Stennett  (1727- 1795)  was  a  Baptist  minister, 
a  very  worthy  man,  held  in  much  respect  by  George  lll.,^^ 
as  also  by  Romaine,  Toplady,  and  other  leading 
Evangelicals.^^       Thirty  -  four     original     hymns    were 

^  Hymns  composed  on  Various  Subjects,  pref.  vi.-xv,  and  hymn  27. 

^  Lyra  Brit.  273;  Book  of  Praise,  xcviii.  ^  Thring,  239. 

^  Saunders's  Evenings  with  Sacred  Poets,  295.  ^  Saunders,  340. 

6  Rippon,  cxvii.  ;  SchafF's  Christ  in  Song.  "  Saunders,  340. 
^  Book  of  Praise,  clx. 
^  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern,  531, 

Lyra  Brit.  523  ;  Boole  of  Praise,  ccccxxxvi.  ^^  Lyra  Brit.  526. 


10 


^-  H.  S.  Skeats's  Hist,  of  Free  Churches,  447. 


4CX)  Religiozis  Thought  in 

attached  to  his  theological  works,  and  he  contributed 
some  to  Rippon's  Selection. 

Samuel  Medley  (1738- 1799) — a  midshipman  at  one 
time,  but  afterwards  a  Baptist  minister — published,  at 
different  dates,  a  very  considerable  number  of  hymns.^ 
Perhaps  his  best  is  one  which  may  be  found  in  the 
Book  of  Praise  (cli.),  beginning,  '  Dearest  of  names,  our 
Lord,  our  King.' 

The  well-known  hymn  'All  hail,  the  power  of  Jesu's 
name'  is  by  Edward  Perronet,  who  published  his 
Occasional  Verses  in  1785.  He  was  a  son  of  the  vicar  of 
Shoreham,  associated  with  the  Wesleys  for  some  time, 
but  afterwards  became  the  minister  of  a  thoroughly 
Dissenting  congregation.- 

Dr.  T.  Gibbons,  a  Congregationalist,  published  his 
Hymns  adapted  to  Divine  Worship  in  1784.  He  is  the 
author  of  the  following  hymn  for  a  time  of  trouble  : — 

To  Thee,  my  God,  whose  presence  fills 

The  earth,  and  seas,  and  skies, 
To  Thee,  whose  Name,  whose  heart  is  Love, 

With  all  my  powers  I  rise. 

Troubles  in  long  succession  roll. 

Wave  rushes  upon  wave  ; 
Pity,  O  pity  my  distress  I 

Thy  child.  Thy  suppliant,  save  I 

O  bid  the  roaring  tempest  cease  ; 

Or  give  me  strength  to  bear 
Whate'er  Thy  holy  will  appoints, 

And  save  me  from  despair  ! 

To  Thee,  my  God,  alone  I  look, 

On  Thee  alone  confide  ; 
Thou  never  hast  deceived  the  soul 

That  on  Thy  grace  relied. 

Though  oft  Thy  ways  are  wrapt  in  clouds 

Mysterious  and  unknown, 
Truth,  Righteousness,  and  Mercy  stand 

The  pillars  of  Thy  throne.^ 

1  Lyra  Brit,  397.  ■  Id.  459. 

3  Lyra  Brit,  236  ;  Book  of  Praise ,  cccxciv. 


J 


Old  English  Verse  401 

There  were  many  other  Nonconformist  writers  of 
hymns  in  the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
Among  them  may  be  mentioned  Christian  Gregor^  and 
other  Moravian  translators  of  German  hymns ;  Benja- 
min Wallin,  a  Baptist,  who  published  his  Evangelical 
Hymns  and  Songs  in  1750  ;2  Darracott,  a  pupil  and 
friend  of  Doddridge  ;  ^  John  Needham,  a  Baptist,  whose 
Devotional  and  AI oral  Hymns  diipT^QdiYQd  in  1768  ;*  James 
Allen  (1734- 1 804),  among  whose  Christiajt  Songs  is  a 
tolerably  well-known  hymn  entitled  'Worthy  the  Lamb.'^ 
While  at  Cambridge  he  attached  himself  to  Ingham,  the 
most  thorough  High  Churchman  of  the  early  Methodists, 
but  afterwards  became  a  member  of  the  small  sect  called 
the  Sandemanians.  Benjamin  Beddome  (1717-1795) 
was  a  profuse  writer  of  hymns  which  attain  a  respectable, 
but  not  a  high  level.  Robert  Hale  edited,  in  18 17,  as 
many  as  six  hundred  of  them.^  James  Boden,  George 
Burder,and  Jehoida  Brewer  were  Congregationalist  hymn 
writers  of  no  great  note.  Two  missionary  hymns,  '  Arm 
of  the  Lord,  awake,'  and  'Bright  as  the  sun's  meridian 
blaze,'  and  some  general  hymns  of  more  than  average 
merit,  were  published  towards  the  end  of  the  century 
by  W.  Shrubsole,  who  appears  to  have  been  a  Noncon- 
formist.'^ John  Fawcett  and  John  Ryland  were  Baptists. 
The  former — one  of  the  many  who  owed  their  first  strong 
religious  impressions  to  Whitefield's  preaching — pub- 
lished a  volume  of  hymns,  among  which  is,  '  Lord,  dis- 
miss us  with  Thy  blessing,^  in  1782.^  The  latter  was  an 
Orientalist  of  some  distinction,  and  an  active  promoter 
of  missionary  effort.  He  wrote  some  good  hymns, 
especially  one  beginning  '  Sovereign  Ruler  of  the  Skies,' 
upon  the  text,  '  My  times  are  in  Thy  hand.'  1^  The 
Walworth  Hymns,  1792,  were  by  Joseph  Swain,  also  a 


^  Ph.  S chaffs  Christ  in  Song. 

^  Lyra  Brit.  571.  ^  Doddridge's  Works,  iv.  522. 

■*  Lyra  Brit.  437.  ^  Id.  20. 

•^  Id.  53.     Several  of  his  occur  in  Rippon's  Collection. 
^  Id.  502-5,  680,  and  Thring,  59.  ^  Thring,  95. 

y  Ld.  225.  ^0  Id.  488;  Book  of  Praise,  ccx.  ccxi. 

2C 


402  Religious  Thought  in 

Baptist  ^  Ottwell  Heginbotham,  a  Congregationalist, 
published  some  hymns  in  the  last  year  of  the  century.^ 
The  best  is,  perhaps,  *  Thou  boundless  source  of  every 
good.'^  Henry  Moore,  a  pupil  of  Doddridge,  was  the 
author  of  some  sacred  poems  of  considerable  merit, 
which  did  not,  however,  appear  till  after  his  death  in 
1802,  when  they  were  edited  by  Dr.  Aikin> 

Among  the  friends  and  coadjutors  of  the  Countess 
of  Huntingdon — herself  a  writer  of  hymns — were  two 
clergymen  who  remained  to  the  last,  notwithstanding 
many  discouragements,  true  to  the  Church  of  England. 
One  of  them  was  Walter  Shirley,^  her  cousin  (1725- 
1786).  Each  of  his  three  brothers  succeeded  in  turn 
to  the  earldom  of  Ferrers.  He  held  the  living  of 
Loughrea,  county  Galway,  and  was  a  Calvinistic  Evan- 
gelical preacher  of  great  note  both  in  England  and 
Ireland.  His  v/ell-known  '  Sweet  the  moments,  rich 
in  blessing'  was  published  in  1774  in  Lady  Hunting- 
don's hymn-book.  The  still  more  popular,  '  Lord,  dis- 
miss us  with  Thy  blessing'  appeared  the  same  year  in 
the  collections  of  Conyers  and  Harris. 

The  other  was  Thomas  Haweis  (1732- 1820),  a  strong 
Calvinist,  one  of  the  Countess's  chaplains,^  and  rector, 
for  fifty-six  years,  of  Aldwinkle,  in  Northamptonshire. 
His  Carniina  Christo  was  published  in  1792,  with  a 
preface  in  which  he  lamented  the  wretched  condition 
of  psalmody  in  the  English  Church,  spoke  of  his  rever- 
ence and  admiration  for  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer, 
and  said  what  he  thought  hymn-writers  ought  to  aim 
at :  *  I  have  wished,  I  fear,  rather  than  have  attained, 
to  be  pathetic  without  pomp,  pointed  without  affecta- 
tion, to  speak  the  language  of  simplicity  without  mean- 
ness, and  to  be  childlike  without  being  childish.'''  His 
best-known  hymn  is  that  beginning — 


1   Thring,  534.  ^  /^  297,  669.  ^  Id.  451. 

■*  Lyra  Brit.  422  ;  Book  of  Praise,  ccclxii.  ;  Aikin's  Letters,  295. 
^  Lyra  Brifanjiica,  673. 

^  He  was  a  principal  founder  of  the  London  Missionary  Society,  Miller, 
Our  Hymns.  ^  Carmina  Christo,  Preface. 


Old  English  Verse  403 

O  Thou  from  whom  all  goodness  flows, 
I  lift  my  heart  to  Thee. 

Among  them  are  some  upon  the  chief  festivals  of  the 
Church,  and  many  which  take  a  midway  position  between 
hymns  and  metrical  versions  of  the  Psalms.  They  all 
show  much  genuine  fervour  of  feeling,  but,  as  a  whole, 
are  not  very  noteworthy. 

Among  those  of  the  Evangelical  party  in  the  Church 
of  Encrland  who  had  no  direct  connection  with  the 
movement  which  the  Wesleys  and  Whitefield  had  set 
on  foot,  Toplady,  Romaine,  Newton,  and  Cowper  are 
all  well  known  as  hymn  writers.  Augustus  Toplady, 
Vicar,  first  of  Blagdon,  afterwards  of  Broadhembury, 
died  in  1778,  when  he  was  only  thirty-eight  years  old. 
He  was  a  man  of  learning  and  talent,  and  gifted,  it  is 
said,  with  a  fire  and  vivacity  which  made  his  preaching 
and  conversation  peculiarly  impressive.  A  Calvinist 
of  the  most  pronounced  type,  and  holding  his  own 
views  with  passionate  vehemence,  he  looked  upon  John 
Wesley  as  little  better  than  Antichrist.^  According  to 
him,  free-will  was  'the  gangrene  which  had  vitiated  the 
moral  state  of  the  country,'  and  Wesley  was  its  arch- 
priest.  Neither  spared  the  other.  Such  violence  of 
mutual  denunciation  was  a  weak  point  in  the  history 
of  two  good  men. 

Toplady's  celebrity  as  a  hymn-writer  would  rest 
securely  upon  one  only — that  which  Dr.  Pusey  has 
justly  called  '  the  most  deservedly  popular  hymn,  per- 
haps the  very  favourite — very  beautiful  it  is'^ — 'Rock 
of  ages,  cleft  for  me.'  There  is  no  hymn  better  known 
or  more  highly  valued  in  the  homes  of  the  poor  ;  and 
the  most  cultivated  and  refined  intellect  may  well  fail 

^  Thus  we  find  Toplady  writing  of  Wesley  as  follows: — 'O  that  He, 
in  whose  hand  the  hearts  of  all  men  are,  may  make  even  this  opposer  of 
grace  a  monument  of  Almighty  power  lo  save!  God  is  witness  how 
earnestly  I  wish  it  may  consist  with  the  Divine  will  to  touch  the  heart 
and  open  the  eyes  of  that  unhappy  man.  I  hold  it  as  much  my  duty  to 
pray  for  his  conversion  as  to  expose  the  futility  of  his  writings  against  the 
truths  of  the  Gospel.' — Toplady  to  Taylor,  Nov.  27,  1772,  Works,  vi.  158. 

2  Quoted  in  Oxford  Essays  (1858),  143. 


404  Religious  Thought  in 

to  recall  words  on  which  it  can  repose  so  gladly  in  the 
hour  when  strength  fails,  and  the  unseen  world  is  near. 
Next,  perhaps,  in  beauty  to  this  memorable  hymn  are 
two  sacred  poems,  one  entitled  The  Dying  Believer  to 
his  Soul  ('  Deathless  principle,  arise '),  the  other  a  Medi- 
tation written  in  Illness  ('  When  languor  and  disease 
invade'),  both  of  them  glowing  throughout  with  'the 
joy  of  believing.'  His  '  Christ,  whose  glory  fills  the 
skies/  is  a  good  and  well-known  morning  hymn.  '  I 
saw,  and  lo !  a  countless  throng,'  a  contemplation  on 
Rev.  vii.  9-17,  is  a  fine  ode.  *  Holy  Ghost,  dispel  our 
sadness,'  is  a  variation  from  the  German,  in  a  stately 
measure,  enriched  with  double  rhymes. 

Toplady's  hymns  have  many  faults.  His  rhymes 
are  often  extremely  careless.  In  one  hymn  we  find 
*  own  '  rhyming  with  '  begun  ' — '  given  '  with  *  heaven,' — 
'  Saviour '  with  '  ever,' — '  Creator '  with  '  nature,' — *  seals ' 
with  '  dispels,'  etc.  Nor  is  this  at  all  an  exceptional 
example.  He  is  apt  to  employ  a  variety  of  confused 
metaphors  ;  sometimes  he  uses  expressions  which  offend 
by  their  want  of  taste  ;  and  occasionally  he  does  not 
scruple  to  use  an  Alexander  Selkirk  metre  which  is 
particularly  disagreeable  to  the  ear  when  adapted  to 
sacred  subjects.  Apart  from  all  question  whether  state- 
ments of  peculiar  dogmatic  views  are  not  prosaic  and 
inappropriate  as  introduced  into  a  hymn,  what  solemnity 
can  there  be  in  such  a  jingle  as  the  following? — 

A  debtor  to  mercy  alone, 

Of  covenant  mercy  I  sing  ; 
Nor  fear,  with  Thy  righteousness  on, 

My  person  and  offerings  to  bring.^ 

But  when  Toplady  was  bent  upon  instilling  the  special 
opinions  of  that  school  of  religious  thought  to  which  he 
belonged,  he  had  little  thought  for  metre,  rhyme,  or 
melody.  It  seems  inconceivable  that  the  author  of 
'  Rock  of  ages '  could  also  write  the  following  : — 


^  Toplady's  Works:,  vol.  vi,  hymn  9. 


Old  English  Verse  405 

Imputatively  guilty  then 

Our  Substitute  was  made, 
That  we  the  blessings  might  obtain 

For  which  His  blood  was  shed.^ 

Many  of  his  hymns  are  wholly  disqualified  for  general 
use  by  his  uncompromising-  Calvinism. 

Reference  has  already  been  made  to  the  indignation 
felt  by  William  Rornaine  (1714-1795)  that  the  Psalms 
of  David  should  be  in  any  way  supplanted  in  Church 
use  by  what  he  called  '  man's  poetry/  '  human  composi- 
tions.' Holding  these  views,  the  worthy  Evangelical 
clergyman  was  of  course  not  a  hymn-writer.  He  was, 
however,  very  desirous  that  congregational  psalmody 
should  be  improved ;  and  hoped  to  contribute  to  this 
by  a  new  version,  in  which  each  Sunday  in  the  Church 
year  should  have  suitable  portions  of  the  Psalms  appro- 
priated to  it.^  Consequently  he  did  not  versify  the 
whole  of  every  Psalm,  His  rendering  contrasts  strongly 
both  in  its  best  features  and  its  defects  with  that  of 
James  Merrick.  There  is  often  a  certain  roughness 
and  want  of  finish  in  it  ;  often,  on  the  other  hand,  a 
simplicity  which  is  pleasing.^ 

"  John  Newton  (1725-1807)  was  a  man  of  no  ordinary 
experiences.  A  special  interest  is  conferred  on  the 
Olney  Hymns  by  the  remembrance  that  the  benevolent 
Evangelical  clergyman,  who  was  the  author  of  the 
majority  of  them,  had  been  in  earlier  years  among  the 
worst  of  those  who  were  engaged  in  the  infamous  slave 
trade  on  the  Guinea  coast* 

Newton's  preface  to  the  Olney  Hymns,  published 
1779,  is  very  modest.  His  share  in  the  work,  he  said, 
would  have  been  far  smaller  had  the  original  design 

1  Toplady's  Works,  hymn  13. 

-  Psalms  by  Rornaine  and  Cumberland,  suited  for  every  Stinday  in  the 
Year,  17  j^. 

^  The  second  part  of  the  22d  Psalm  (for  use  on  Good  Friday)  is  an 
excellent  example  of  this. 

■*  It  was  a  period,  however,  in  which  occasional  fits  of  bitter  remorse 
and  excited  religious  feelings  were  succeeded  by  relapses  into  utter  reck- 
lessness of  profligate  living. — J.  Newton's  Authentic  Narrative,  1764. 


4o6  Religious  Thought  in 

been  carried  out.  It  had  been  a  source  of  keen  regret 
to  him  that  his  friend  Cowper  had  been  prevented,  *by 
a  long  and  affecting  indisposition,'  from  contributing  a 
much  larger  proportion  of  the  hymns.  For  his  own 
part,  he  added,  he  was  a  versifier,  not  a  poet.  His 
hymns  were  only  for  plain  people, — '  Though  I  would 
not  offend  readers  of  taste  by  a  wilful  coarseness  and 
negligence,  I  do  not  write  professedly  for  them.  If  the 
Lord  whom  I  serve  has  been  pleased  to  favour  me  with 
that  mediocrity  of  talent  which  may  qualify  me  for 
usefulness  to  the  weak  and  the  poor  of  His  flock,  without 
quite  disgusting  persons  of  superior  attainments,  I  have 
reason  to  be  satisfied.'^ 

He  was  certainly  quite  right  in  judging  of  himself 
that  he  was  no  poet.  The  great  majority  of  his  hymns 
are  entirely  deficient  of  anything  that  approaches  to 
distinct  poetical  merit.  Undoubtedly,  even  in  this 
respect,  there  is  a  very  wide  interval  between  his  best^ 
and  his  worst.  Some  of  the  former  are  by  no  means 
unworthy  of  their  place  by  the  side  of  Cowper's  ;  some 
of  the  latter  descend,  as  poetical  compositions,  into  the 
level  of  mere  doggerel.  Thus — to  take  a  verse  in  which 
a  mere  incident  of  Bible  history  is  referred  to — we  read 
in  a  hymn  based  upon  the  life  of  Joseph, — 

Though  greatly  distressed  before, 

When  charged  with  purloining  the  cup, 

They  now  were  confounded  much  more  ; 
Not  one  of  them  dared  to  look  up.^ 

When  the  subject  treated  is  of  a  more  sacred  and  solemn 
nature — as  in  the  9th  hymn  of  the  3rd  book — the  use 
of  language  in  which  there  is  no  sense  of  dignity  of 
expression  becomes  more  positively  offensive.  His 
best  hymns  are  of  course  free  from  such  fault.     Among 

^  Me??ioirs,  523. 

^  The  last  two  lines  of  his  finest  hymn  are  very  melodious — in  full  har- 
mony with  the  thouglit  they  express  : 

'And  may  the  music  of  Thy  Name 
Refresh  my  soul  in  death.' 

^  Olney  Hymns,  i.  21. 


Old  English  Verse  407 

these,  the  familiar  one  beginning  '  How  sweet  the  name 
of  Jesus  sounds,'^  takes  the  first  place  ;  next  to  it  one 
scarcely  less  well  known,  *  Come,  my  soul,  thy  suit 
prepare.'  -  There  are  several  others,  some  of  which 
contain  verses  very  indifferent  in  point  of  composition, 
but  which  have  deservedly  attained  a  good  deal  of 
popularity  from  the  depth  ^  or  tenderness  of  their  re- 
ligious feeling.  Such  are  those  beginning,  '  One  there 
is  above  all  others  ; '  "^  '  Glorious  things  of  Thee  are 
spoken;'^  'Time  by  moments  steals  away;'^  'Safely 
through  another  week  ; ' "  '  Now  let  us  join  with  hearts 
and  tongues  ;'^  a  short  hymn,  too,  should  be  mentioned 
which  is  often  sung  at  the  close  of  service,  '  May  the 
grace  of  Christ  our  Saviour.'^ 

Several  of  Newton's  hymns  are  too  entirely  reflections 
on  his  own  personal  experiences  to  be  at  all  adapted  for 
general  use.  A  similar  remark  may  be  made  of  the 
striking  and  well-known  meditation,  admissible  only  as 
a  hymn  for  private  use,  beginning  '  'Tis  a  point  I  long 
to  know.'  1^ 

Many  of  his  more  didactic  poems  upon  Scripture 
incidents  and  parables  have  merit  of  their  own,  if  they 
are  regarded  not  as  hymns,  which  they  scarcely  are,  nor 
as  poetical  compositions,  which  they  scarcely  pretend  to 
be,  but  as  short  spiritual  tales  in  verse,  which  people  of 
little  education  might  read  with  interest  as  such.  That 
he  had  some  such  idea  in  his  mind  is  the  more  probable 


^   Olney  Hymns,  i.  57.  2  /d^  i,  ^i. 

'^  The  following  are  the  words  of  a  writer  whom  the  character  of 
J.  Newton  had  impressed  with  very  high  respect  : — '  So  valuable  are  some 
of  Newton's  hymns,  from  their  deep  knowledge  of  the  humsn  heart,  their 
experience  of  our  wants,  and  their  application  to  our  need,  that  probably 
no  hymns  have  ever  been  written  which  have  given  greater  help  to  de- 
pressed and  anxious  minds.' — J.  C.  Colquhoun's  IV.  Wiiberforce,  his 
Friends  and  Tunes,  91.  The  Olney  Hymns,  especially  that  by  Newton 
beginning  'Why  should  I  fear  the  darkest  hour?'  were  a  special  solace  to 
that  pure  and  noble  spirit,  Augustus  Hare,  in  his  last  days. — Memonals 
of  a  Quiet  Life,  ii.  32. 

4  Id.  i.  53.  ^  Id.  i.  60.  6  /^_  ii^  3^ 

''  Id.  ii.  40.  ^  Id.  iii.  39.  ^  Id.  iii.  loi. 

1°  Id.  i.  119. 


4o8  Religious  Thought  in 

from  his  having  included  among  his  hymns  two  or  three 
sacred  fables — the  Loadstone,  the  Spider  and  the  Bee, 
and  the  Tamed  Lion. 

It  has  been  noticed  as  a  remarkable  and  significant 
omission  that,  although  a  whole  section  of  hymns  is  en- 
titled '  Ordinances,'  there  is  no  mention  whatever  among 
them  of  the  sacrament  of  baptism.^ 

Cowper  contributed  sixty-eight  of  the  Olney  hymns, 
about  a  quarter  of  the  whole  collection.  As  a  whole, 
they  are  by  no  means  equal  to  much  of  his  other  poetry. 
The  gloom,  the  narrowness,  the  austerity  of  his  theology, 
are  naturally  more  apparent  in  them  than  in  poems 
where  his  religious  ideas  are  less  prominently  expressed. 
On  the  other  hand,  there  is  in  the  best  of  them  a 
plaintive  tenderness,  an  elevation  of  sentiment,  and  a 
purity  of  tone,  which  are  no  less  characteristic  of  the 
gentle  and  devout  spirit  of  their  author.  Moreover, 
Cowper  was  not  always  bowed  down  with  despondent 
fears  about  his  spiritual  state.  The  cloud  which  hung 
over  him  sometimes  passed  away  and  left  him  in  the 
enjoyment  of  a  calm  and  trustful  happiness.  In  such  a 
mood,  he  composed  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
hymns  that  have  ever  been  written.  Each  of  the  two 
writers  had  chosen  the  same  text  for  their  subject — 
'  Lovest  thou  Me?'  There  was  a  singular  contrast  in 
the  mode  of  handling  it.  Newton's  hymn  took  the 
form  of  an  anxious  argument  with  himself  whether  he 
did  indeed  love  God  or  no,  whether  he  were  His  or 
whether  he  were  not.  Cowper's  '  Hark,  my  soul!  it  is 
the  Lord  '  is  that  which  contains  those  exquisite 
verses — 

Can  a  woman's  tender  care 
Cease  toward  the  child  she  bare  ? 
Yes,  she  may  forgetful  be, 
Yet  will  I  remember  thee. 

Mine  is  an  unchanging  love, 
Higher  than  the  heights  above, 

'   C.  B.  Pearson,  in  Oxford  Essays  {\%i^%),  145. 


Old  English  Verse  409 

Deeper  than  the  depths  beneath, 
Free  and  faithful,  strong  as  death. 

Lord,  it  is  my  chief  complaint, 
That  my  love  is  weak  and  faint ; 
Yet  I  love  Thee  and  adore  : 
O  for  grace  to  love  Thee  more  !  ^ 

Such,  too,  is  the  beautiful  hymn   beginning  with  the 
verse — 

Sometimes  a  light  surprises 

The  Christian  while  he  sings  ; 
It  is  the  Lord  who  rises 

With  healing  in  His  wings  ; 
When  comforts  are  declining. 

He  grants  the  soul  again 
A  season  of  clear  shining 

To  cheer  it  after  rain.- 

But  the  frequent  tone  of  Cowper's  hymns  is  that  of 
one  who  feels  himself  '  tempest-tossed  and  half  a  wreck,' 
clinging  with  pathetic  tenacity  to  a  hope  which  often 
seems  scarcely  sufficient  to  save  him  from  despair  : — 

The  billows  swell,  the  winds  are  high 
Clouds  overcast  my  wintry  sky  ; 
Out  of  the  depths  to  Thee  I  call — 
My  fears  are  great,  my  strength  is  small.^ 

I-Te  feels  desolate  in  spirit  and  God-forsaken,  lost  in  the 
night,  and  beset  by  mysterious  enemies  : — 

My  soul  is  sad  and  much  dismayed  ; 

See,  Lord,  what  legions  of  my  foes. 
With  fierce  Apollyon  at  their  head. 

My  heavenly  pilgrimage  oppose  !  * 

Powers  of  darkness  are  around  him,  and  his  soul  is  dark 
within.     And  yet — 

I  see,  or  think  I  see, 

A  glimm'ring  from  afar  ; 
A  beam  of  day  that  shines  for  me. 
To  save  me  from  despair.^ 

His  best  hymns  are  most  of  them  in  the  minor  key  of 
prayerful  submission  to  a  sovereign  Will,  and  of  earnest 

^   Olney  Hymns,  i.  ii8.  -  Id.  iii.  48. 

3  Id.  iii.  18.  ■*  Id.  iii.  20.  5  Id.  iii.  8. 


4IO  Religious  Thought 


171 


longing  for  deliverance  from  an  innate  sinfulness  which 
might  yet  be  too  strong  for  him.  Among  these  may  be 
mentioned  those  beginning  '  Oh  for  a  closer  walk  with 
God;'i  'God  of  my  life,  to  Thee  I  call ; '  2  'What 
various  hindrances  we  meet;'^  'The  billows  swell;'* 
'  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way ; '  ^  *  There  is  a 
fountain  ;'<^  'O  Lord,  my  best  desire  fulfil,'^  and  that 
in  which  he  declared  his  purpose  of  retiring  from  a 
world  which  seemed  to  him  crowded  with  spiritual 
dangers  : — 

Far  from  the  world,  O  Lord,  I  flee 
From  strife  and  tumult  far  ; 

From  scenes  where  Satan  wages  still 
His  most  successful  war.^ 

Cowper's  translations  of  the  fervid  but  quietistic  and 
somewhat  unpracticable  hymns  of  Madame  Guyon 
arose  out  of  a  cause  which  forcibly  exhibits  the  sad 
religious  dejection  which  he  could  never  for  long  to- 
gether overcome.  *  Ask  no  hymns,'  he  wrote,  '  from  a 
man  suffering  by  despair  as  I  do.  I  could  not  sing  the 
Lord's  song,  banished  as  I  am,  not  to  a  strange  land, 
but  to  a  remoteness  from  His  presence,  in  comparison 
with  which  the  distance  from  cast  to  west  is  no  distance, 
is  vicinity  and  cohesion.  I  dare  not,  either  in  prose  or 
verse,  allow  myself  to  express  a  frame  of  mind  which  I 
am  conscious  does  not  belong  to  me  :  least  of  all  can  I 
venture  to  use  the  language  of  absolute  resignation, 
lest  only  counterfeiting,  I  should  for  that  very  reason 
be  taken  strictly  at  my  word,  and  lose  all  my  remaining 
comfort.  Can  there  not  be  found  among  those  transla- 
tions of  Madame  Guyon  somewhat  that  might  serve 
the  purpose?  ...  I   have  no  objection   to  giving  the 

1   Olney  Hymns,  i.  3.  ^  Id.  iii.  119. 

3  Id.  ii.  60.  ^  Id.  iii.  18. 

^  Id.  iii.  15.  'The  history  of  this  hymn  is  remarkable.  In  an 
interval  of  derangement  Cowper  thought  it  was  the  Divine  will  that  he 
should  go  to  a  certain  part  of  the  river  Ouse  and  drown  himself;  but  the 
driver  of  the  vehicle,  missing  his  way,  diverted  him  from  his  purpose,  and 
thereupon  were  composed  those  memorable  lines.' — Saunders,  346. 

"  Id.  i.  79  ^  Id.  iii.  19.  ^  Id.  iii.  45. 


I 


Old  English  Verse  4 1 1 

graces  of  the  foreigner  an  English  dress,  but  insuperable 
ones  to  all  false  pretences  and  affected  exhibitions  of 
what  I  do  not  feel.'  ^ 

Before  passing  from  the  hymnists  of  the  latter  part 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  a  few  others  should  yet  be 
mentioned.  Martin  Madan  and  Mrs.  Cowper  were 
both  cousins  of  William  Cowper.  To  the  former  is 
owed  the  generally  adopted  variation  from  Charles 
Wesley  and  Cennick's,  '  Lo  !  He  comes  with  clouds 
descending.' 2  Robert  Hawker  (i 754-1830),  vicar  of  a 
parish  in  Plymouth,  was  author  of  two  hymns  quoted 
in  the  Lyra  Britannica^one.  upon  the  name  '  Abba, 
Father,'  the  other  upon  the  word  '  Amen.'  ^  Joseph 
Carlyle  (1759- 1805)  was  professor  of  Arabic  in  Cam- 
bridge, and  vicar  of  Newcastle.  He  was  the  writer  of 
'  Lord,  when  we  bend  before  Thy  throne.'  ^  Bishop 
Home,  best  known  by  his  Commentary,  was  the  author 
of  a  few  hymns  ;  Bishop  Lowth  of  some  versions  from 
the  Psalms.^  The  hymn,  'Jesus,  and  can  it  ever  be,' 
was  written  in  1776  by  Thomas  Green  of  Ware,  when 
he  was  only  ten  years  old.*^ 

John  Newton's  vicar  and  predecessor  at  Olney  was 
Moses  Brown,  who  is  spoken  of  as  'an  evangelical 
minister  and  a  good  man.' ''  The  vicarage  of  Olney 
was  only  ^50  a  year  ;  and  Moses  Brown  had  a  family 
of  thirteen  children.  His  pecuniary  difficuties  being, 
therefore,  very  great,  he  was  glad  to  accept  the  chap- 
laincy of  Morden  College,  Blackheath,^  and  Newton  suc- 
ceeded to  the  parochial  cure.  He  was  at  one  time  much 
disappointed  at  not  becoming  Poet  Laureate.^  Certainly 
the  tenure  of  this  office  did  not,  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  imply  any  considerable  poetical  gift.  Brown 
might  have  filled  it  quite  as  worthily  as  some  who  had 

^  H.  Stebbing's  Life  of  Cowper,  ii. 

-  Ly7-a  Brit.  648,  656,  675.     Book  of  Praise,  xc. 

3  Id.  288.  4  /^,  126. 

^  Oxford  Essays,  1858,  142.  ^  Saunders,  349. 

''  Cecil's  Memoirs  of  J.  Newton,  41. 

^  Id.,  and  James  Hervey's  Works,  vi.  270. 

^  M.  Brown's  Sunday  Thoughts,  fourth  ed.  1781,  part  iii.  984-6. 


412  Religious  Thought  in 

held  it  before  him.  But  he  was  only  a  very  moderate 
poet.  His  poem  on  the  Universe  and  his  Sunday 
Thoughts  received  much  praise,  and  the  latter  passed 
through  at  least  four  editions.  But  the  circulation 
must  have  been  almost  entirely  among  a  number  of 
worthy  people  who  cared  little  for  the  poetical  in 
comparison  with  the  religious  merit  of  his  poems. 
They  were  instructive  and  orthodox,  mildly  evangelistic, 
tolerant,  except  to  Rome,  suffused  with  a  quiet  appre- 
ciation of  natural  beauty,  and  appropriate,  yet  not  too 
heavy,  for  Sunday  reading.  '  I  hope,'  wrote  James 
Hervey,  '  Divine  Providence  will  give  his  Stinday 
Thoughts  an  extensive  spread,  and  make  them  an 
instrument  of  diffusing  the  savour  of  true  religion. 
Seldom,  if  ever,  have  I  seen  a  treatise  that  presents  the 
reader  with  so  full  yet  concise  a  view,  so  agreeable  yet 
striking  a  picture  of  true  Christianity  in  its  most  im- 
portant articles,  and  most  distinguishing  peculiarities. 
Though  I  am  utterly  unacquainted  with  the  author' 
(they  afterwards  became  intimate),  *  I  assure  myself  he  is 
no  novice  in  the  sacred  school.'  ^  The  Sunday  Thoughts 
were  first  published  in  1750 :  a  fourth  part,  including 
some  hymns,  or  Night  Songs,  was  added  in  178 1. 

Philip  Skelton,  an  Irish  clergyman  who  published 
his  hymns  in  1784.  His  Song  of  Creation,  inter Qstlng 
in  thought  and  finely  expressed,  may  be  found  in 
Professor  Palgrave's  Treasuiy  of  Sacred  Song. 

Cowper  was  for  some  time  under  the  care  of  Dr. 
Nathaniel  Cotton  (1707 -1788),  who  kept  a  private 
establishment  of  high  repute  for  persons  of  deranged 
intellect.  The  poet  used  to  speak  of  him  with  the  utmost 
gratitude,  as  a  physician  whose  humanity  was  equal  to 
his  skill,  and  who  was  as  capable  of  administering  to 
the  spiritual  as  to  the  physical  maladies  of  his  patients.^ 
He  was  a  man  also  of  some  literary  note.  His  Visions 
in  Verse,  published  about  175 1,  attained  a  good  deal  of 

^  James  Hervey's  Works,  vi.  47. 

'■i  Cowper's  poem  on  '  Hope  ; '  Cowper's  Letters,  July  4th,  1765  ;  Cecil's 
Memoirs  of  Newton,  45  ;  Chalmers's  Life  of  Cotton,  5. 


Old  English  Verse  413 

popularity,  and  deserved  it,  not  as  having  any  great 
poetical  merit,  but  as  embodying  in  smooth,  easy-flowing 
measure  the  ideas  of  a  sensible,  benevolent,  and  religious 
mind.  Each  vision  is  a  kind  of  allegory,  in  which  some 
personified  quality  such  as  Pleasure,  Health,  Friendship, 
etc.,  is  the  principal  character.  Among  Cotton's  other 
poetical  productions  are  a  few  h3^mns,  one  of  which, 
beginning  *  If  solid  happiness,'  ends  with  this  bright 
verse — 

For  conscience  like  a  faithful  friend, 
Shall  through  the  gloomy  vale  attend, 

To  aid  our  dying  breath  ; 
And  faith  shall  fix  our  thankful  eye 
Beyond  the  reach  of  death.' 

Hitherto,  William  Cowper  (1731-1808)  has  only  been 
spoken  of  here  as  one  among  the  hymn-writers  of 
the  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It  would 
be  beyond  the  limits  of  the  subject  to  remark  upon  his 
general  merits  as  a  poet.  But  in  all  his  principal  writ- 
ings the  religious  element  is  strongly  marked.  With 
two  or  three  unimportant  exceptions,  all  his  poems  date 
from  a  period  when  religious  convictions  had  for  a  long 
time  become  altogether  the  controlling  principle  of  his 
life.  His  genius  was  late  in  ripening.  He  was  fifty 
years  old  before  he  was  known  as  a  poet. 

The  best  and  most  characteristic  features  of  Cowper's 
poetry  are  very  closely  related  to  the  strong  Christian 
feeling  which  actuated  him.  W^ithout  it,  his  writings 
might  not  have  been  deficient  in  sweetness  and  pathos  ; 
but  they  would  have  been  deprived  of  that  which  con- 
ferred upon  them  those  higher  qualities  which  made  his 
poems  a  turning-point  in  eighteenth  century  literature. 
His  thorough  earnestness,  his  transparent  simplicity  of 
moral  aim,  his  devoted  love  of  all  goodness,  his  shrink- 
ing aversion  from  all  forms  of  evil,  his  lively  sense  of  a 
divine  purpose  and  significance  in*  all  created  works — 
these  principles,  operating  in   a  sensitive  and  poetical 

^  This  hymn  is  not  in  Chalmers's  edition.  It  is  from  Patrick's  Col- 
lection, 1786. 


414  Religious  Thought  in 

temperament,  were  just  what  was  wanted  to  give  his 
poetry  that  simpHcity,  reaHty,  and  vigour  which  contrasts 
most  favourably  with  the  formahties  and  artificial  graces 
which  had  been  too  popular  before.  It  may  be  added 
that  unaffected  elevation  of  moral  sentiment,  such  as 
that  which  in  Cowper  was  based  upon  pure  religious 
feeling,  gives  a  beauty  to  poetry  which  is  almost  in- 
dispensable to  its  highest  charm. 

The  defects  of  Cowper's  theology  are  easily  separable 
from  the  solid  core  of  Christian  love  and  faith  to  which 
they  are  attached.  But,  as  was  inevitable  in  a  nature 
such  as  his,  they  have  left  a  strong  impress  on  his 
poetry.  Cowper  has  condemned  Puritanism  in  strong 
words  as  dark  and  sullen,  as  harsh,  intolerant,  and 
severe,  without  smile,  sweetness,  or  grace.  In  his  own 
mind,  as  it  is  reflected  both  in  his  poems  and  in  his 
letters,  there  is  constantly  a  tenderness,  a  gentle  gaiety, 
a  perception  of  humour,  which  is  quite  the  reverse  of 
Puritan  moroseness.  Yet  he  was  continually  falling 
into  the  same  extreme  which  he  has  censured.  His 
poetry  is  never  so  unattractive  as  where  it  is  made 
expressive  of  the  severe  and  confined  views  of  life 
peculiar  to  the  school  of  religious  thought  in  which  his 
ideas  were  moulded.  He  is  often  very  intolerant  and 
precise.  His  own  home,  were  it  not  for  the  constitutional 
morbidness  which  religious  fears  aggravated,  but  had 
not  occasioned,  would  have  been  a  very  Eden  in  the 
midst  of  a  sinful  world.  And  living  as  he  did,  a  recluse, 
in  the  pure  and  harmless  round  of  his  occupations,  amid 
the  tranquil  pleasures  of  his  garden  and  the  country, 
his  books,  his  painting,  his  hares,  his  bird-cages,  and  his 
own  delicate  and  refined  thoughts,  among  friends  who 
loved  him,  and  among  the  poor,  to  whom  he  was  enabled 
to  be  an  almoner  as  well  as  a  kind  and  compassionate 
friend,  ever  walking  truly  with  his  God,  he  was  impatient 
that  the  world  in  general  could  not  live  after  a  like 
pattern,  and  had  small  indulgence  for  its  sins,  and  scanty 
sympathy  for  its  weaknesses.  He  thought  with  some- 
thing like  horror  of  the  life  of  cities — 


Old  English  Verse  415 

humming  with  a  restless  crowd, 
Sordid  as  active,  ignorant  as  loud. 
Whose  highest  praise  is  that  they  live  in  vain, 
The  dupes  of  pleasure,  or  the  slaves  of  gain  ; 
WTiere  works  of  man  are  cluster'd  close  around. 
And  works  of  God  are  hardly  to  be  found.^ 

There  seemed  to  him  something  radically  wrong  in  such 
conditions  of  existence  for  '  a  creature  formed  for  God 
alone  and  for  heaven's  high  purposes,'  and  he  used  all 
his  powers  as  a  Christian  satirist  to  inveigh  against 
them.  Cowper  was  not  wanting  in  sound  practical  sense 
and  masculine  power  of  reflection.  He  could  lash 
irreligion  and  vice  with  a  force  and  purity  of  tone  which 
cannot  fail  to  carry  with  it  the  sympathy  of  the  reader. 
When,  however,  he  descends  to  pass  sentence  upon 
trivial  follies,  or  to  speak  of  pursuits  and  pleasures 
which  are  simply  not  congenial  to  himself,  he  often 
loses  all  sense  of  proportion,  and  becomes  the  mere 
bigot.  The  best  and  wisest  of  counsellors  is  listened  to 
with  impatience  if  he  declaims  against  pleasures  which 
become  noxious  only  by  unreasonable  or  immoderate 
use,  if  cards  and  dancing  are  denounced  as  crimes,^ 
hunting  as  vulgarest  brutality,^  and  he  who  would  play 
a  game  of  chess  is  asked  how  he  can  *  waste  attention 
at  the  checkered  board,'  and  concentrate  his  mind  upon 
a  trivial  game,  '  as  if  eternity  were  hung  in  balance  on 
his  conduct  of  a  pin  ?  '  *  Yet  when  the  poet  passed  on  to 
speak  of  those  who  devote  themselves  to  grave  studies 
of  man  or  nature,  he  was  even  more  than  ever  dazed 
by  theological  contempt,  more  than  ever  the  zealot : — 

I  sum  up  half  mankind 
And  add  two-thirds  of  the  remaining  half, 
And  find  the  total  of  their  hopes  and  fears 
Dreams,  empty  dreams.     The  million  flit  as  gay 
As  if  created  only  like  the  fly. 
That  spreads  his  motley  wings  in  the  eye  of  noon. 
To  sport  their  season  and  be  seen  no  more. 
The  rest  arc  sober  dreamers,  grave  and  wise, 
And  pregnant  with  discoveries  new  and  rare. 

'  Retirement.  -  Progress  of  Error. 

^  Id.  and  Conversation.  "*   The  Task,  book  vi. 


4i6  Religious  Thought  in 

Then  follow  a  score  or  two  of  lines  in  which  he  pours 
contempt  upon  the  '  seeming  wisdom,'  the  *  airy  reveries,' 
the  '  plausible  amusements,'  the  idle  labours  of  the 
historian,  the  geologist,  the  astronomer  : — 

And  thus  they  spend 
The  little  wick  of  Hfe's  poor,  shallow  lamp 
In  playing  tricks  with  Nature,  giving  laws 
To  distant  worlds,  and  trifling  in  their  own.* 

Much  in  the  same  style  of  thought  is  his  impassioned 
tirade  against  the  pride  of  those  who  refuse  to  acknow- 
ledge that  man  is  by  nature  so  dead  in  sin  as  not 
to  possess  any  native  beams  of  rectitude,  any  inborn 
love  of  virtue.'^  It  was  unfortunate  that  a  poet  like 
Cowper,  whose  religious  influence  on  cultivated  minds 
might  have  been  so  considerable,  should  have  imbibed 
the  mischievous  persuasion  that,  to  enhance  the  bless- 
ings of  divine  grace  and  the  preciousness  of  Christian 
morals,  all  other  elements  of  human  nature  must  be  de- 
preciated and  disparaged. 

Apart  from  this,  the  religious  thought  that  enters 
into  Cowper's  general  poetry  is  often  exceedingly 
beautiful.  How^ever  much,  in  his  darker  hours,  he 
might  doubt  whether  he  had  any  right  to  its  joy,  he 
never  doubted  that  a  Christian's  faith  was  as  rich  in 
happiness  as  in  holiness.  All  nature  glowed  to  such  an 
one  with  more  than  earthly  brightness  : — 

He  is  the  freeman  whom  the  truth  makes  free. 

His  are  the  mountains,  and  the  valleys  his. 
And  the  resplendent  rivers  :  his  to  enjoy 
With  a  propriety  that  none  can  feel, 
But  who  with  filial  confidence  inspired 
Can  lift  to  heaven  an  unpresumptuous  eye. 
And  smiling  say,  '  My  Father  made  them  all  ! ' 
Are  they  not  his  by  a  peculiar  right, 
And  by  an  emphasis  of  interest  his, 
Whose  eye  they  fill  with  tears  of  holy  joy, 

*   The  Task,  book  iii.,  and  Charity,  towards  the  middle. 
-  Truth,  near  the  close. 


Old  English  Verse  417 

Whose  heart  with  praise,  and  whose  exalted  mind 
With  worthy  thoughts  of  that  unwearied  love 
That  plann'd,  and  built,  and  still  upholds,  a  world 
So  clothed  wdth  beauty  for  rebellious  man  ? 

Acquaint  thyself  with  God,  if  thou  wouldst  taste 
His  \vorks.     Admitted  once  to  His  embrace, 
Thou  shalt  perceive  that  thou  wast  blind  before. 
Thine  eye  shall  be  instructed  ;  and  thine  heart 
Made  pure  shall  relish,  with  divine  delight 
Till  then  unfelt,  what  hands  divine  have  wrought.^ 


Happy  w^ho  walks  with  Him  !  whom  what  he  finds 
Of  flavour  or  of  scent  in  fruit  or  flow-er. 
Or  w^hat  he  view^s  of  beautiful  or  grand 
In  nature,  from  the  broad  majestic  oak 
To  the  green  blade  that  twinkles  in  the  sun, 
Prompts  with  remembrance  of  a  present  God. 
His  presence,  who  made  all  so  fair,  perceived, 
Makes  all  still  fairer.     As  wdth  him  no  scene 
Is  dreary,  so  with  him  all  seasons  please.- 

The  poems  of  Hannah  More  (1744- 1833)  derive,  no 
doubt,  their  chief  value  from  the  spirit  that  animates 
them.  They  are  the  verses  of  a  refined  and  most 
benevolent  woman,  whose  influence  was  great,  and 
whose  talents  were  exerted  with  a  Christian-hearted 
purpose  of  doing  good.  Her  poetical  were  almost  as 
popular  as  her  prose  works.  It  is  true  their  sale  was  in 
many  instances  very  much  promoted  by  the  zeal  of  some 
good  people,  who  believed  that  in  the  excited  and 
anxious  times  which  witnessed  the  outbreak  of  the 
French  Revolution,  her  writings,  full  as  they  are  of  high 
principle,  tact,  and  sound  sense,  were  calculated  to  be 
of  great  service.  In  any  case,  they  were  widely  read 
and  much  admired.  Her  poem,  for  instance,  on  Sensi- 
bility, although  weighted  rather  than  not  by  the  Sacred 
Di'anias,  with  which,  in  1783,  it  was  published,  went 
through  nineteen  editions.^  Sensibility,  in  her  meaning 
of  the  word,  was  a  quickness  of  moral  perception,  especi- 

^    The  Task,  book  v.  near  close.  -  Id.  vi. 

^  Hannah  Moris  Memoirs,  by  W.  Roberts,  i.  184. 

2D 


41 8  Religious  Thought  in 

ally  to  those  simple  but  precious  virtues  of  domestic  life 
which  Christian  charity  demands.  The  poem  is  chiefly 
addressed  to  girls  growing  up  to  womanhood.  Yet  it  is 
not  so  much  a  poem  as  an  essay  written  in  pleasing  verse. 
The  following  sensible  and  characteristic  lines  occur 
in  one  of  the  Solitary  Musings,  of  which  the  first  line  is, 
'Lord,  when  dejected  I  appear:' — 

O  wayward  heart  !  thine  is  the  blame  ; 
Though  I  may  change,  God  is  the  same. 
Not  feebler  faith,  nor  colder  prayer, 
My  state  and  sentence  shall  declare  ; 
Not  nerves  and  feelings  shall  decide- 
By  safer  signs  I  shall  be  tried. 
Is  the  fixed  tenor  of  my  mind 
To  Christ  and  righteousness  inclined?^ 

Nor  should  her  religious  tales  and  ballads  be  passed 
over  without  notice.  Many  of  them  were  adapted  to 
popular  tunes,  and  widely  .dispersed  as  tracts  and  broad- 
sheets. The  following  is  a  part  of  the  conversation 
entitled  Turn  the  Carpet,  or  The  Two  Weavers : — 

Says  John,  Thou  say'st  the  thing  I  m.ean, 
And  now  I  hope  to  cure  thy  spleen  ; 
The  world,  which  clouds  thy  soul  with  doubt. 
Is  but  a  carpet  inside  out. 

As  when  we  view  these  shreds  and  ends, 
We  know  not  what  the  whole  intends  ; 
So  when  on  earth  things  look  but  odd, 
They  're  working  still  some  scheme  of  God. 

No  plan  or  pattern  can  we  trace. 
All  wants  proportion,  truth,  and  grace  ; 
The  motley  mixture  we  deride, 
Nor  see  the  beauteous  upper  side. 

But  when  we  reach  that  world  of  light, 
And  view  those  works  of  God  aright, 
Then  shall  we  see  the  whole  design, 
And  own  the  Workman  is  divine.'^ 

Some  of  Hannah  More's  best  verses  were  written  in 
1788,  upon  the  slave-trade.  They  were  verses  well 
calculated  to  stir  the  conscience  of  her  readers.     Espe- 


^  HannaJi  Mor-Ps  Memoirs,  41.  '-^  Hannah  More's  Works ^ 


Old  English  Verse  419 

cially  she  inveighed  against  'the  proud  philosophy,' 
which  affected  to  deny  to  the  negro  race  a  common 
share  in  the  powers  of  our  joint  humanity.  And 
earnestly  she  pleaded  against  the  iniquitous  inconsis- 
tency of  slavery  in  a  land  of  liberty  : — 

Shall  Britain,  where  the  soul  of  freedom  reigns, 
Forge  chains  for  others  she  herself  disdains  ? 
Forbid  it,  Heaven  !     O  let  the  nations  know 


The  liberty  she  tastes  she  will  besto 


There  is  much  religious  pathos  in  the  following : — 

And  if  some  notions,  vague  and  undefined, 
Of  future  terrors  have  assail'd  thy  mind  ; 
If  such  thy  masters  have  presumed  to  teach — 
As  terrors  only  they  are  prone  to  preach — 
(For  should  they  paint  Eternal  Mercy's  reign. 
Where  were  th'  oppressor's  rod,  the  captive's  chain  ?) 
If  then  thy  troubled  soul  has  learn'd  to  dread 
The  dark  unknown  thy  trembling  footsteps  tread — 
On  Him  who  made  thee  what  thou  art  depend  ; 
He  who  withholds  the  means  accepts  the  end. 
Thy  mental  night  thy  Saviour  will  not  blame  ; 
He  died  for  those  who  never  heard  His  name. 
Not  thine  the  reckoning  dire  of  light  abused, 
Knowledge  disgraced,  and  liberty  misused.^ 

In  fact,  the  better  poetry  of  the  age  was  all,  greatly 
to  its  credit,  on  the  side  of  freedom  and  humanity — 
prompt  alike  to  animate  Wilberforce  in  his  exertions, 
and  to  console  and  encourage  him  under  the  partial 
failure  which  at  first  awaited  his  efforts.  James  Hurdis, 
in  1788,  entreated  his  countrymen  to  put  away  from 
them  a  guilt  which  would  surely  bring  righteous  venge- 
ance upon  them.^  In  1792,  Cowper  addressed  a  noble 
sonnet  to  Wilberforce,  bidding  him  not  to  be  dis- 
heartened— 

Friend  of  the  poor,  the  wrong'd,  the  fetter-gall'd, 
Fear  not  lest  labour  such  as  thine  be  vain.* 

Mrs.  Barbauld  dedicated  a  poem  to  him  on  the  same 

^  Hannah  More's  Works,  xi.  1 19.  ^  Id.  117. 

^  James  Hurdis's  Poems,  iii.  92. 

■*  Cowper's  Poems  :  Sonnet  to  William  Wilberforce. 


420  Religious  Thought  in 

occasion. 1  James  Montgomery  not  only  wrote,  but 
suffered  imprisonment  in  the  cause,  through  the  offence 
which  his  unguarded  vehemence  had  given.^  Southey, 
in  1794,  dedicated  to  the  subject  some  of  his  early 
sonnets  and  lyricS' — verses  glowing  with  indignation.^ 
Coleridge,  in  the  same  year,  denounced  the  wrath  that 
must  thunder  from  the  Holy  One — 

where  hideous  Trade 
Loud  laughing  packs  his  bales  of  human  anguish.'* 

Campbell,  in  the  last  year  of  the  century,  wrote  a  fine 
apostrophe  to  Nature  outraged  by  the  wicked  institu- 
tion : — 

Eternal  Nature  !  when  thy  giant  hand 

Had  heaved  the  floods,  and  fixed  the  trembling  land, 

When  life  sprang  startling  at  thy  plastic  call, 

Endless  her  forms,  and  man  the  lord  of  all  ! 

Say,  was  that  lordly  form  inspired  by  thee 

To  wear  eternal  chains  and  bow  the  knee  ? 

Was  man  ordain'd  the  slave  of  man  to  toil. 

Yoked  with  the  brutes,  and  fetter'd  to  the  soil  ; 

Weigh'd  in  a  tyrant's  balance  with  his  gold  ? 

No  !  Nature  stamp'd  us  in  a  heavenly  mould  ! 

She  bade  no  wretch  his  thankless  labour  urge. 

Nor,  trembling,  take  the  pittance  and  the  scourge  I 

No  homeless  Libyan,  on  the  stormy  deep. 

To  call  upon  his  country's  name  and  weep  !^ 

James  Hurdis  (1763-1801),  whose  verses  on  slavery 
have  been  referred  to,  was  a  Fellow  of  Magdalen 
College,  and  curate  of  Burwash  in  Sussex  ;  afterwards 
vicar  of  Bishopstone,  and  Professor  of  Poetry  at  Oxford. 
His  gentle  refinement,  his  cultivated  love  of  Nature, 
his  bright  unclouded  piety,  make  him  one  of  the  most 
charming  of  eighteenth-century  poets.  He  was  not,  in 
the  stricter  sense  of  the  word,  a  writer  of  sacred  poetry, 

1  Barbauld's  Works  (Aikin),  i.  173  :    Epistle  to  W.  Wilberforce. 

2  Meytioirs  of  Javies  Montgomery,  by  J.  Holland  and  Jas.  Everett,  166, 
and  pref  to  Poetical  Works,  i.  xxvii. 

^  Southey's  Poetical  Works  :  Poems  concerning  the  Slave  Trade  (1794), 
ii.  56. 

^  S.  T.  Coleridge's  Poetical  Works :  Religious  Musings,  i.  87. 
°  Pleasures  of  Hope. 


J 


Old  English  Verse  421 

but  a  vein  of  pure  Christian  feeling  runs  through  all 
he  wrote ;  as  when,  musing  on  the  resuscitation  of  all 
Nature  in  the  spring,  he  exclaims — 

But  I  shall  live  again, 
And  still  on  that  sweet  hope  shall  my  soul  feed. 
A  medicine  it  is,  which  with  a  touch 
Heals  all  the  pains  of  life  ;  a  precious  balm, 
Which  makes  the  tooth  of  sorrow  venomless, 
And  of  her  hornet  sting  so  keen  disarms 
Cruel  Adversity.^ 

Anna  Laetitia  Barbauld^  (174 3- 182  5)  might  have  been 
spoken  of  among  the  hymn-writers.  Her  hymns  are 
only  twelve  in  number,  occupying  a  few  pages  at  the 
end  of  her  poetical  works.  But  all  of  them  are  good  of 
their  kind,  considered  as  devotional  poems,  not  intended 
for  congregational  use.  She  published  only  those 
which  she  thought  the  best,  acting,  in  this  instance  at 
least,  on  the  excellent  principle,  '  I  had  rather  it  be 
asked  of  twenty  pieces  why  they  are  not  here,  than  of 
one  why  it  is.'^  Four  of  them,  one  for  Easter  Sunday, 
one  on  '  Pious  Friendship,'  and  those  beginning,  '  Praise 
to  God,  immortal  praise,'  and  '  Awake,  my  soul !  lift  up 
thine  eyes,'  may  be  found  in  various  selections. 

Among  her  general  poems  there  are  several  of  a 
sacred  character.  The  lines  which  conclude  her  poems, 
*  Life,  I  know  not  what  thou  art,'  are  worthy  of  Vaughan 
or  Norris : — 

Life  I  we  Ve  been  long  together, 
Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather  ; 
Tis  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear  ; — 
Perhaps  'twill  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear  : 


^  James  Hurdis's  Poems  :  The  Village  Curate. 

-  Mrs.  Barbauld  was  three  years  older  than  her  brother  Dr.  Aikin. 
Their  father  was  a  dissenting  clergyman,  a  friend  of  Doddridge.  Mr. 
Barbauld's  grandfather  was  a  French  Protestant  who,  as  a  boy,  had  been 
smuggled  to  England  inside  a  cask.  His  father  was  an  English  clergy- 
man. He  himself  had  been  intended  for  the  same  profession,  but  had 
imbibed  Nonconformist  principles  in  Dr.  Aikin's  school.  Mrs.  Barbauld's 
celebrity  as  a  teacher  is  well  known. — L.  Aikin's  Memoirs. 

'^   Works  of  Anna  L.  Barbauld,  with  Memoir,  by  Lucy  Aikin,  i.  Ix. 


42  2  Religious  Thought  in 

Then  steal  away,  give  little  warning ; 

Choose  thine  own  time  ; 
Say  not  '  Good-night,'  but  in  some  brighter  clime 

Bid  me  good-morning.^ 

The  earlier  publications  of  George  Crabbe  (1756- 1832) 
belong  wholly  to  the  eighteenth  century.  The  Candidate, 
the  Library,  the  Village,  and  the  Newspaper  appeared 
between  1780  and  1785.  After  that  date,  as  if  con- 
tented with  the  praise  and  popularity  he  had  won,  he 
retired  into  the  seclusion  of  domestic  and  parochial  life, 
so  that  when  his  Village  Register  was  published  twenty- 
two  years  afterwards,  in  1807,  he  was  welcomed  almost 
as  a  new  writer.  In  the  character,  also,  as  well  as  in  the 
date  of  his  poetry,  he  is  a  link  between  two  periods. 
The  influence  of  Pope,  the  grand  model  of  eighteenth- 
century  poets,  upon  his  style  of  thought  and  versifica- 
tion is  constantly  visible  and  frequently  acknowledged, 
especially  in  his  earlier  works.  In  simplicity,  on  the 
other  hand,  in  minuteness  of  observation,  in  his  love  of 
Nature,  and  in  thorough  sympathy  with  the  poor,  he 
belonged  rather  to  that  newer  school  of  poetry  of  which 
there  were  few  traces  until  the  last  century  was  drawing 
near  its  close. 

Crabbe's  title  to  be  ranked  among  authors  of  sacred 
poetry  rests  chiefly  upon  the  Pilgrim's  Song  '  Pilgrim, 
burdened  with  thy  sin,'  etc.,^  in  Sir  Eustace  Grey,  a 
poem  written  in  1804.  He  gained  his  literary  successes 
as  the  Christian  moralist,  the  keen-eyed  but  kindly 
censor  of  humble  life.  While  he  was  yet  a  young 
medical  practitioner  struggling  against  adverse  circum- 
stances at  Aldborough,  his  native  place,  he  formed  his 
purpose,  and  steadfastly  kept  to  it : — 

Be  it  my  boast  to  please  and  to  improve, 
To  warm  the  soul  to  virtue  and  to  love  ; 
To  paint  the  passions,  and  to  teach  mankind 
The  greatest  pleasures  are  the  most  refined  ; 


^  Barbauld's  Works,  i.  262. 

'  G.  Crabbe's  Poetical  Works,  with  his  Letters,  etc.,  by  his  Son,  ii.  275. 


Old  English  Verse  423 

The  cheerful  tale  with  fancy  to  rehearse, 
And  gild  the  moral  with  the  charm  of  verse.^ 

Among  the  fragments  of  sacred  poetry  which  occur  in 
his  early  note-books,  and  which  were  published  by  his 
son  among  his  other  works,  there  is  one  dated  1778, 
upon  the  Resurrection,  suggested  by  early  spring  flowers, 
and  the  following  short  aspiration,  as  he  wandered  in 
the  late  evening  along  the  '  samphire  banks '  of  the 
Suffolk  coast '} — 

The  sober  stillness  of  the  night 

That  fills  the  silent  air, 
And  all  that  breathes  along  the  shore, 

Invite  to  solemn  prayer. 

Vouchsafe  to  me  that  spirit.  Lord, 

Which  points  the  sacred  way, 
And  let  thy  creatures  here  below 

Instruct  me  how  to  pray.^ 

To  the  majority  of  his  contemporaries,  the  poetry 
of  William  Blake  (1757-1827)  was  as  unintelligible 
as  his  painting.  He  was  simply  pitied  as  a  madman, 
or  scorned  as  a  visionary  mystic.  His  admirers  in 
a  later  age  have  done  him  ample  justice.  'He  was  a 
poet,'  writes  one  of  his  editors,  'who  in  his  best  things 
has  hardly  fallen  short  of  the  large  utterances  of 
the  Elizabethan  dramatists,  the  pastoral  simplicity  of 
Wordsworth,  the  subtlety  and  fire  of  Shelley,  and  the 
lyrical  tenderness  of  Tennyson.'*  His  simpler  poems 
are  many  of  them  delightful.  And  the  reader  who  will 
bear  patiently  with  great  faults — wild  fancies  of  a 
disordered  imagination,  obscurities,  enigmas,  paradoxes, 
eccentricities  of  religious  and  moral  belief,  extrava- 
gances of  expression,  metrical  irregularities,  and  some- 
times grammatical  carelessness — will  often  find  himself 
rewarded  by  a  strain  of  poetry  which  in  depth  and 
sweetness  may  be  said  to  exceed  any  that  the  eighteenth 
century  has  elsewhere  produced.     As  a  writer  of  sacred 

^   The  Wish,  id.  ii.  310.  -  Id.  i.  11.  •'  Id.  ii.  313. 

^  Preface  to  W.  Blake's  Poetical  Sketches,  ed.  by  R.  H.,  14. 


424  Religious  Thought  in 

poetry  he  had  capacities  of  no  ordinary  kind.  His 
words — 

I  am  in  God's  presence  night  and  day — 
He  never  turns  his  face  away — ^ 

were  to  him  the  expression  of  a  reality  as  vividly  im- 
pressed upon  his  conception  as  any  outward  object  of 
sense  could  be  to  an  ordinary  mind.  No  one  can  read 
his  poems  without  feeling  convinced  of  this.  He  died 
in  a  very  rapture  of  joy,  composing  and  uttering  almost 
to  the  very  last  '  songs  to  his  Maker  so  sweetly,  to  the 
ears  of  his  wife,  that  when  she  stood  to  hear  him,  he, 
looking  upon  her  most  affectionately,  said,  ''  My  beloved, 
they  are  not  mine,  no,  they  are  not  mine." '  2  None 
could  be  more  persuaded  than  he  was  that  death  is  in 
very  truth  the  '  golden  door '  of  life,  re-opening  inlets  of 
spiritual  perception  ^  among  which  the  outward  senses 
are  the  least  and  the  most  imperfect.  In  one  of  his 
poems  he  writes — 

The  door  of  death  is  made  of  gold, 
That  mortal  eyes  can  not  behold  ; 
But  when  the  mortal  eyes  are  closed, 
And  cold  and  pale  the  limbs  reposed, 
The  soul  awakes,  and,  wondering,  sees 
In  her  mild  hand  the  golden  keys. 
The  grave  is  heaven's  golden  gate, 
And  rich  and  poor  around  it  wait. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  of  his  Songs  of  Innocence, 
published  in  1789,  is  that  entitled  On  Another's  Sorrow. 
Part  of  it  runs  thus  : — 

Can  I  see  another's  woe. 
And  not  be  in  sorrow  too  ? 
Can  I  see  another's  grief, 
And  not  seek  for  kind  relief? 

Can  I  see  a  falling  tear, 
And  not  feel  my  sorrow's  share  ? 
Can  a  father  see  his  child 
Weep,  nor  be  with  sorrow  fill'd  ? 

^  From  a  MS.  poem,  quoted  in  Al.  Gilchrist's  Life  of  Blake,  310. 
-  Id.  361.  ^  Cf.  A.  C.  Swinburne's  Life  of  Blake,  242. 


Old  English  Verse  425 

Can  a  mother  sit  and  hear 
An  infant  groan,  an  infant  fear  ? 
No,  no  ;  never  can  it  be — 
Never,  never  can  it  be. 

He  doth  give  His  joy  to  all  ; 
He  becomes  an  infant  small  ; 
He  becomes  a  man  of  woe  ; 
He  doth  feel  the  sorrow  too. 

Think  not  thou  canst  sigh  a  sigh, 
And  thy  Maker  is  not  by  ; 
Think  not  thou  canst  weep  a  tear. 
And  thy  Maker  is  not  near.^ 

His  own  heart  was  one  that  overflowed  with  wide  sym- 
pathy ;  but  most  of  all  was  he  full  of  tenderness  towards 
little  children.  The  following,  entitled  The  Lamb,  may 
be  quoted  as  an  example  : — 

Little  lamb,  who  made  thee  ? 
Dost  thou  know  who  made  thee  ? 
Gave  thee  life,  and  bid  thee  feed 
By  the  stream  and  o'er  the  mead  ; 
Gave  thee  clothing  of  delight. 
Softest  clothing,  woolly,  bright  ; 
Gave  thee  such  a  tender  voice. 
Making  all  the  vales  rejoice  ; 

Little  lamb,  who  made  thee  ? 

Dost  thou  know  who  made  thee  ? 
Little  lamb,  I  '11  tell  thee  ; 
Little  lamb,  I  '11  tell  thee. 
He  is  called  by  thy  name  ; 
For  He  calls  Himself  a  Lamb  : 
He  is  meek,  and  He  is  mild — 
He  became  a  little  child. 
He  a  child,  and  thou  a  lamb, 
We  are  called  by  His  name. 

Little  lamb,  God  bless  thee. 

Little  lamb,  God  bless  thee  !  ^ 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  although  only  born  in  1772, 
was  chronologically  an  eighteenth  century  poet.  1797 
has  been  very  properly  called  his  great  poetical  year ; 
and  most  of  his  noblest  verses,  including  many  that  were 

^  W.  Blake's  Songs  of  Innocence  and  Experience,  34.  -  Id.  8. 


426  Religious  Thoiight  in 

not  published  till  18 16,  were  composed  before  the  close 
of  the  century.  There  could  scarcely  be  a  stronger  illus- 
tration of  the  development  of  thought  during  the  ninety 
years  preceding,  than  the  contrast  between  the  poetry 
of  Coleridge  and  that  which  flourished  in  the  reign  of 
Anne. 

Coleridge's  verse  is  deeply  penetrated  with  religious 
feeling,  though  he  rarely  wrote  upon  what  are  commonly 
called  sacred  subjects.  It  was  so  even  at  the  time  of 
his  greatest  speculative  perplexities,  when  (to  use  his 
own  words)  '  I  found  myself  all  afloat :  doubts  rushed 
in  ;  broke  upon  me  "  from  the  fountains  of  the  great 
deep,"  and  "  fell  from  the  windows  of  heaven."  The 
fontal  truths  of  natural  and  revealed  religion  alike 
contributed  to  the  flood  ;  and  it  was  long  ere  my  ark 
touched  on  an  Ararat  and  rested.'^  His  was  a  mind 
that  could  not  be  satisfied  without  probing  to  the 
foundations  of  religion  and  morals  ;  and  metaphysical 
difficulties,  such  as  those  which  attended  his  meditations 
on  personality  in  God  as  reconciled  with  infinity,  sorely 
perplexed  him.  But,  as  he  often  has  said,  his  difficulties 
were  intellectual  ;  in  feeling  he  never  lost  his  hold  on 
faith  and  goodness.  '  My  head  was  with  Spinoza, 
though  my  whole  heart  remained  with  Paul  and  John.'^ 
He  passed  through  a  phase  of  zealous  Unitarianism, 
but  did  not  find  what  he  wanted  in  it ;  and  gradually, 
as  he  exchanged  Hartley's  philosophy  for  views  more 
nearly  approaching  those  of  Kant,  and  discerned  more 
clearly  the  properties  and  limitations  of  the  human 
mind,  his  intellectual  perplexities  cleared  away,  and 
he  gained  the  satisfaction  he  craved  in  a  fervid  but 
thoughtful  acceptance  of  Christianity  as  he  found  it 
set  forth  in  the  liturgy  of  the  English  Church.  Before 
the  nineteenth  century  had  begun,  the  great  struggle 
by  which  for  some  years  past  Coleridge's  mind  had 
been  distracted — the  ferment  of  his  thought  on  religious, 
philosophical,  and    political    questions — had    compara- 

^  FAfe  of  S.   T.  Colei'idge,  by  James  Gillnian,  i.  87.  ^  Id. 


I 


Old  English  Verse  427 

tively  subsided,  and  his  powerful  intellect  had  taken  its 
matured  form. 

Through  all  this  time,  poetry  had  been  no  common 
solace  to  him.  '  It  has  soothed  my  afflictions  (he  said)  ; 
it  has  multiplied  and  refined  my  enjoyments  ;  it  has 
endeared  solitude ;  and  it  has  given  me  the  habit  of 
wishing  to  discover  the  good  and  the  beautiful  in  all 
that  meets  and  surrounds  me.'  ^  Hence  the  great  charm 
of  much  of  his  earlier  poetry.  It  is  the  innermost  record 
of  a  mind  instinct  with  life  and  thought,  always  religious 
even  amid  its  most  disquieting  doubts — longing  to  be- 
lieve, even  when  it  could  not — obedient  to  the  rule  of 
faith,  even  where  reason  affected  to  dispute  its  right  to 
rule. 

Thrice  holy  faith  !     Whatever  thorns  I  meet, 
As  on  I  totter  with  unpractised  feet, 
Still  let  me  stretch  my  arms  and  cling  to  thee. 
Meek  nurse  of  souls  through  their  long  infancy.^ 

Like  most  young  men  of  ability  and  promise  Cole- 
ridge had  been  intensely  interested  in  the  great  events 
which  had  been  transacted  across  the  Channel.  At  the 
outbreak  of  the  Revolution  he  had  been  fired  with  the 
most  sanguine  expectations,  Ardent  love  of  freedom, 
eager  sympathy  with  the  poor  and  the  oppressed,  ex- 
pectations of  a  new  order  of  society  which  would  be 
truer,  nobler,  happier  than  had  ever  gone  before,  excited 
him  into  a  sort  of  religious  enthusiasm,  as  though  the 
Saviour's  kingdom  were  about  to  begin  on  earth,  and 
the  thousand  years  had  reached  their  advent.  He 
trusted  that  even  the  fury  of  the  outbreak  would  be 
only  as  the  storm  that  cleared  the  sky  for  halcyon  days 
to  follow  ;  or  rather  the  opening  of  the  seals,  prelusive 
to  the  coming  forth  from  God  of  the  New  Jerusalem. 

Transfigured  with  a  dreadless  awe, 
A  solemn  hush  of  soul,  meek  he  beholds 
All  things  of  terrible  seeming  :  yea,  unmoved. 
Views  e'en  th'  unmitigable  ministers 
That  shower  down  vengeance  on  these  later  days. 

^  Life  of  S.  T.  Coleridge,  by  James  Gillman,  loi. 

'^   To  an  Infant,  written  about  1794  :    Poetical  Works,  i.  76. 


428  Religious  Thought  in 

For  kindly  with  intenser  deity 

From  the  celestial  mercy-seat  they  come, 

And  at  the  renovating  wells  of  Love 

Have  fill'd  their  vials  with  salutary  wrath, 

To  sickly  nature  more  medicinal 

Than  what  soft  balm  the  weeping,  good  man  pours 

Into  the  lone,  despoiled  traveller's  wounds. 

Lord  of  unsleeping  Love 
From  everlasting  Thou  !  we  shall  not  die. 
These,  even  these,  in  mercy  didst  thou  form 
Teachers  of  good  through  evil,  by  brief  wrong 
Making  truth  lovely,  and  her  future  might 
Magnetic  o'er  the  fixed,  untrembling  heart. 

The  Lamb  of  God  hath  open'd  the  fifth  seal  : 
And  upward  rush,  on  swiftest  wing  of  fire. 
The  innumerable  multitude  of  wrongs 
By  man  on  man  inflicted  !     Rest  awhile, 
Children  of  wretchedness  !     The  hour  is  nigh  !  ^ 

His  fervid  anticipations  of  a  blest  future  upon  a  reno- 
vated earth  were  destined  to  speedy  and  bitter  dis- 
appointment. In  his  pathetic  ode  upon  France,  written 
in  1797,  he  has  recorded  the  progress  of  his  disenchant- 
ment, slow  and  unwilling,  but  none  the  less  complete. 
The  outburst  of  *  fierce  and  drunken  passions ' — the 
'  loud  scream  of  blasphemy  '  ^ — the  shedding  of  innocent 
blood — scarcely  availed  at  first  to  awaken  him  from  his 
golden  dream  : 

Ye  storms  that  round  the  dawning  east  assembled. 
The  sun  was  rising,  though  ye  hid  his  light. ^ 

It  was  not  until  France  invaded  the  liberties  of  Switzer- 
land that  he  reluctantly  relinquished  his  hopes. 

To    Coleridge's    mind,   freedom    was   indeed  a  holy 
thing.     In  its  highest  sense  it  was 

the  unfetter'd  use 
Of  all  the  powers  that  God  for  use  had  given  : 
But  chiefly  this.  Him  first,  Him  last  to  view. 
Through  meaner  powers  of  secondary  things 
Effulgent,  or  through  clouds  that  veil  his  blaze.-* 

1  Religious  Musings  (1794),  85-94.         -  France^  an  Ode,  1797,  id.  130. 
3  Id.  •*   The  Destiny  of  Nations ,  a  Vision,  id.  98. 


Old  English  Verse  429 

His  hymn  on  national  freedom  was  a  devotional  poem 
in  quite  a  true  sense  of  the  word,  prefaced  by  a  reveren- 
tial appeal  to  the 

Eternal  Father  !     King  Omnipotent  I 

To  the  Will  Absolute,  the  One,  the  Good  \ 

The  I  Am,  the  Word,  the  Life,  the  Living  God.i 

It  seemed  to  him  a  work  in  all  respects  worthy  of 
angelic  ministrations  to  build  up  kingdoms  and  to  guide 
with  superhuman  agency  the  destinies  of  nations.'^  In 
his  patriotism  there  was  the  same  deep  religious  tone. 
The  sanctity  of  human  life,  not  in  the  individual  only, 
nor  only  in  its  family  and  social  relations,  but  in  its 
wider  sphere  of  political  action — the  loftiness  of  the 
ideal  towards  which  its  efforts  should  be  directed — the 
inspiring  greatness  of  its  capabilities  —  these  were 
thoughts  which  gave  a  very  marked  character  to  Cole- 
ridge's religious  musings,  and  which  were  pointedly  in 
contrast  with  the  prevailing  bias  of  the  generation  which 
immediately  preceded  him.  Political  life  had  so  long 
been  the  almost  recognised  arena  of  low  and  worldly 
motives,  of  faction,  intrigue,  and  corruption,  that  if  the 
speculations  of  men  of  Coleridge's  moral  and  intellectual 
power  were  apt  to  be  somewhat  mystical  and  over- 
wrought, sometimes  erroneous  and  misleading,  they 
were  of  very  real  value  to  the  age.  They  were  not 
only  a  most  refreshing  contrast  to  much  that  had  gone 
before,  but  they  contributed  largely  to  the  formation 
of  a  new  mental  epoch.  There  were  many  men  whose 
names  occur  in  the  public  history  of  the  eighteenth 
century  fully  as  fervid  and  earnest  as  he  was.  But  for 
a  long  time  previously  there  had  not  been  many — 
as  there  were  many  afterwards — in  whose  minds  the 
same  conjunction  of  ideas  would  be  associated  as 
to  Coleridge,  when  he  left  for  a  wider  sphere  of  action 
the  myrtle-covered  walls  of  his  pleasant  Somerset 
cottage : — 

^   The  Destiny  of  Nations.  -  Id.  104. 


430  Religious  Thought  in 

I  therefore  go  and  join  head,  heart,  and  hand, 

Active  and  firm  to  fight  the  bloodless  fight 

Of  Science,  Freedom,  and  the  Truth  in  Christ.' 

And  no  less  was  Coleridge  sensitively  alive  both  as 
a  poet  and  as  a  religious  man,  to  a  sacred  presence,  a 
holy  teaching,  in  outward  nature.  The  Hymn  before 
Sujtrise  in  the  Vale  of  Chainouni,  published  in  1816,  but 
written  before  the  close  of  the  last  century,^  does  not 
lose  by  comparison  with  the  noble  hymn  which  Milton 
has  put  into  the  lips  of  our  first  parents.  It  certainly 
touches  finer  chords  of  feeling  than  any  which  James 
Thomson,  even  in  his  noblest  passages,  appealed  to.  As 
the  contemplation  of  a  spiritual  mind  deeply  touched 
by  the  sublimer  aspects  of  mountain  scenery,  how 
beautiful  is  this — 

Thou  too,  hoar  mount,  with  thy  sky-pointing  peaks. 

Oft  from  whose  feet  the  avalanche,  unheard. 

Starts  downward,  glittering  through  the  pure  serene 

Into  the  depth  of  clouds  that  veil  thy  breast — 

Thou  too  again,  stupendous  mountain  !  thou 

That  as  I  raise  my  head,  a  while  bowed  low 

In  adoration,  upward  from  thy  base 

Slow  travelling  with  dim  eyes  suffused  with  tears. 

Solemnly  seemest,  like  a  vapoury  cloud. 

To  rise  before  me.     Rise,  O  ever  rise. 

Rise  like  a  cloud  of  incense  from  the  earth  ! 

Thou  kingly  spirit  throned  among  the  hills. 

Thou  dread  ambassador  from  earth  to  heaven, 

Great  hierarch  !  tell  thou  the  silent  sky. 

And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun, 

Earth  with  her  thousand  voices  praises  God.^ 

Not  that  sublimity  in  nature  was  needed  to  kindle  such 
sympathies ;  for — 

Nature  ne'er  deserts  the  wise  and  pure, 
No  plot  so  narrow,  be  but  nature  there, — 
No  waste  so  vacant  but  may  well  employ 

^  Reflection  on  having  left  a  Place  of  Retirement,  1798,  id.  i.  195. 

2  Oilman's  Life  of  Coleridge,  i.  308.  He  quotes  an  interesting  criticism 
by  Coleridge  himself  upon  this  poem,  in  answer  to  his  friend  Wordsworth, 
who  had  condemned  it  as  '  mock  sublime. '  The  sentiment  of  it  is  un- 
doubtedly high-strung,  but  none  the  less  genuine.     ,         ^   Works,  i.  186. 


Old  English  Verse  431 

Each  faculty  of  sense,  and  keep  the  heart 
Awake  to  love  and  beauty.^ 

Coleridge  was  no  less  persuaded  than  Wordsworth  that 
poetry  fulfilled  a  worthy  and  truly  religious  function  in 
'  awakening  the  mind's  attention  from  the  lethargy  of 
custom  and  directing  it  to  the  loveliness  and  wonders 
of  the  world  before  us, — an  inexhaustible  treasure  ;  but 
for  which,  in  consequence  of  the  feeling  of  familiarity 
and  selfish  solicitude,  we  have  eyes  that  see  not,  ears 
that  hear  not,  and  hearts  that  neither  feel  nor  under- 
stand.'^    He  saw — 

That  outward  fonns,  the  loftiest,  still  receive 
Their  finest  influence  from  the  life  within  ;  ^ 

and  he  and  his  brother  poet,  in  a  spirit  into  which 
devotional  sentiment  largely  entered,  set  themselves  to 
awaken  among  their  countrymen  the  livelier  suscepti- 
bilities which  they  had  learnt  thus  highly  to  appreciate. 
In  earlier  life  they  sometimes  worked  together,  and 
worked  harmoniously  with  the  same  general  purpose 
before  each.  Coleridge  had  not  the  exquisite  poetical 
simplicity  of  Wordsworth,  but  he  was  quite  equally 
alive  to  the  spiritual  side  of  nature.  The  outward 
universe  was  to  his  mind  full  of  divine  and  mystic  life, 
active,  although  unseen  ;  abounding  in  what  might  be 
called  the  emblems  and  reflections  of  a  higher  existence. 
The  following  are  some  fine  lines  from  a  poem 
written  by  Coleridge  at  the  end  of  1794  : — 

He  first  by  fear  uncharm'd  the  drowsed  soul, 
Till  of  its  nobler  nature  it  'gan  feel 
Dim  recollections  ;  and  thence  soared  to  hope, 
Strong  to  believe  whate'er  of  mystic  good 
The  Eternal  dooms  for  His  immortal  sons  ; 
From  hope  and  firmer  faith  to  perfect  love 

1  The  Livie-Tree  Bower  :    Works,  \.  2.oa^. 

2  Coleridge,  upon  the  Lyrical  Ballad,  published  by  him  and  Words 
worth  in  1798. — Gillman's  Life  of  Coleridge,  i.  105, 

3  Poetical  Works,  ii.  151.  Cf.  the  passage  from  Thomas  Burnet's 
Archceol.  Philos.  with  which  he  heads  the  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner-. 
Facile  credo,  plures  esse  Naturas  invisibiles  quam  visi biles  in  return 
universitate.  .  .  .  Juvat  quandoque  in  animo,  tamquam  in  tabula, 
raajoris  et  melioris  mundi  imaginem  contemplari.' 


432  Religious  Thought  in 

Attracted  and  absorb'd,  and  centred  there 
God  only  to  behold  and  know  and  feel, 
Till  by  exclusive  consciousness  of  God, 
All  self-annihilated,  it  shall  make 
God  its  identity,  God  all  in  all  ! 
We  and  our  Father  one  ! 

And  blest  are  they 
Who  in  this  fleshly  world,  the  elect  of  heaven. 
Their  strong  eye  darting  through  the  deeds  of  men, 
Adore  with  steadfast  unpresuming  gaze 
Him,  nature's  essence,  mind,  and  energy  ; 
And  gazing,  trembling,  patiently  ascend. 
Treading  beneath  their  feet  all  visible  things 
As  steps,  that  upwards  to  their  Father's  Throne 
Lead  gradual. 


There  is  one  mind,  one  omnipresent  mind, 

Omnific,  His  most  holy  name  is  Love. 

Truth  of  subliming  import  !  with  the  which 

Who  feeds  and  saturates  his  constant  soul. 

He  from  his  small,  particular  orbit  flies 

With  blest  outstarting  !     From  himself  he  flies  ; 

Stands  in  the  sun,  and  with  no  partial  gaze 

Views  all  creation,  and  he  loves  it  all, 

And  blesses  it,  and  calls  it  very  good  ! 

This  is  indeed  to  dwell  with  the  Most  High  I^ 

I  conclude  this  notice  of  his  poetry  by  quoting  from 
verses  written  after  the  century  had  closed.  The  first 
is  from  the  somewhat  sad  poem  entitled  Dejection,  dating 
about  1 803 : — 

O  Lady,  we  receive  but  what  we  give, 

And  in  our  life  alone  does  nature  live  : 

Ours  is  her  wedding  garment,  ours  her  shroud  ! 

And  could  we  ought  behold  of  higher  worth, 
Than  that  inanimate  cold  world  allow'd 
To  the  poor  loveless  ever-anxious  crowd. 

Ah  !  from  the  soul  itself  must  issue  forth 
A  light,  a  glory,  a  fair  luminous  cloud 

Enveloping  the  earth, 
And  from  the  soul  itself  must  there  be  sent 

A  sweet  and  potent  voice  of  its  own  birth, 
Of  all  sweet  sounds  the  life  and  element  ! 

^  Religious  Musings,  1794,  id.  i.  86. 


Old  English  Verse  433 

O  pure  of  heart  I  thou  needst  not  ask  of  me 
Wliat  this  strong  music  in  the  soul  may  be  I 
What  and  wherein  it  doth  exist, 
This  light,  this  glor>^,  this  fair  luminous  mist. 
This  beautiful  and  beauty-making  power  : — 
Joy,  virtuous  Lady,  joy  that  ne'er  was  given 
Save  to  the  pure  and  in  their  purest  hour.^ 

The  mind  of  Robert  Southey  (1774- 1843)  passed 
through  a  development  which  was  in  many  respects 
closely  analogous  to  that  through  which  Coleridge  passed. 
An  intimate  friendship  had  grown  up  between  the  two 
men  while  the  former  was  at  Balliol  College,  and  the 
latter  an  undergraduate  of  a  year  and  a  half's  longer 
standing  at  Jesus  College,  Cambridge.-  Their  tastes  and 
feelings  were  in  many  respects  congenial.  Both  were 
fired  with  the  same  enthusiastic  expectations  of  a 
coming  reign  of  universal  brotherhood.  The  great 
experiment  of  republicanism  in  America,  the  moral 
crusade  in  England  against  slavery,  above  all  the 
tremendous  revolutionary  outbreak  in  France,  flattered 
their  anticipations,  and  kindled  them  to  a  glowing 
heat.  Like  Kant  and  Klopstock,  like  Lavater  and 
Alfieri,^  and  like  many  men  of  ability  in  England,  their 
joy  and  hope  were  great,  their  disappointment  pro- 
portionately bitter.*      It    is  well    known    how  the    two 

^  Religious  Musings,  i.  237. 

2  Life  and  Correspondence  of  Robert  Southey,  ed.  by  his  Son,  C.  C. 
Southey,  i.  210. 

^  Gillman'sZ//^  ^.S.  T.  Coleridge,  i.  47. 

^  Cf.  Shelley's  fine  lines  : — 

'  The  nations  thronged  around  and  cried  aloud 
As  with  one  voice,  truth,  liberty,  and  love  ! 
Suddenly  fierce  confusion  fell  from  heaven 
Among  them,  there  was  strife,  deceit,  and  fear.' 

Pro7nethetis  Unbouna, 

Thus,  also.  Sir  S.  Romilly  wrote  in  May  1792:  '  The  conduct  of  the 
Assembly  has  not  been  able  to  shake  my  conviction  that  it  [the  Revolu- 
tion] is  the  most  glorious  event,  and  the  happiest  for  mankind,  that  has 
ever  taken  place  since  human  affairs  were  recorded.'  In  the  September 
of  that  same  year,  he  could  scarcely  find  words  strong  enough  to  express 
his  horror  of  the  movement. — Corresp.  ii.  3.  Quoted  in  \V.  Massey's 
Hist,  of  the  Reign  of  George  III. ,  iii.  502. 

2  E 


434  Religious  Thought  in 

friends  proposed  to  carry  their  theory  into  practice  by 
heading  a  colony  on  the  banks  of  the  Susquehannah, 
where  intellect  and  industry,  pure  philosophy  and  good 
agriculture,  sound  religion,  cultivated  poetry,  and  honest 
trade,  should  flourish  together  under  a  government  of 
perfect  equality  in  bonds  of  fraternity  and  peace.  The 
pleasing  vision  collapsed  through  an  unfortunate  want 
of  funds  ;  and  England  retained  within  her  shores  two 
young  men  whose  voluntary  banishment  into  the 
wilds  of  America  would  have  left  a  blank  in  our  literary 
history. 

Southey,  like  Coleridge,  had  been  much  disturbed  in 
his  religious  convictions  during  the  ferment  of  mind 
and  feeling  through  which  he  had  passed.  He  gave  up 
all  ideas  of  ordination,  and  his  opinions  were  for  a  time 
very  unsettled.  *  They  soon  took  the  form  of  Unitari- 
anism,  from  which  point  they  seem  gradually  to  have 
ascended  without  any  abrupt  transitions  as  the  troubles 
of  life  increased  his  devotional  feeling,  and  the  study  of 
religious  authors  informed  his  better  judgment,  until 
they  finally  settled  down  into  a  strong  attachment  to 
the  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  England.'  ^  Here  again, 
except  that  the  period  of  change  was  marked  in  Cole- 
ridge's case  by  much  greater  intensity  of  religious  feel- 
ing, the  course  of  development  was  strangely  similar. 

Some  very  fine  devotional  passages  might  be  selected 
from  Southey's  later  poetry.  Even  TJialaba,  which 
was  begun  in  1800,  although  an  Arabian  story,  is  in- 
debted to  a  nobler  source  than  the  Koran  for  its  pure 
religious  feeling  and  moral  sublimity.^     But  the  poems 

*  Life  of  Southey,  i.  203. 

2  '  The  design  required  that  I  should  bring  into  view  the  best  features 
of  that  system  of  belief  and  worship  which  had  been  developed  under  the 
covenant  with  Ishmael,  i)lacing  in  the  most  favourable  light  the  morality 
of  the  Koran,  and  what  the  least  corrupted  of  the  Mahometans  retain  of 
the  patriarchal  faith.  It  would  have  been  altogether  incongruous  to  have 
touched  upon  the  abominations  engrafted  upon  it.' — Southey's  preface  to 
eighth  vol.  of  ed.  of  1838.  '  Thalaba  is  a  poetic  story  of  faith — its  spiri- 
tual birth,  its  might,  its  trials,  and  its  victory — such  a  story  as  none  but  a 
Christian  poet  could  have  told.' — H.  Read's  Introd.  to  English  Literature, 
p.  169. 


Old  English  Verse  435 

he  wrote  in  his  earlier  days,  before  the  close  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  are  also  marked  by  serious  loftiness 
of  aim.  'I  may  not,'  he  wrote  in  June  1797,  'live  to 
do  good  to  mankind  personally,  but  I  shall  at  least 
leave  something  behind  me  to  strengthen  those  feelings 
and  excite  those  reflections  from  whence  Virtue  must 
spring.  In  writing  poetry  with  this  end,  I  hope  I  am 
not  uselessly  employing  my  leisure  hours.'  ^  In  one  of 
his  first  poems,  dated  1793,  The  Triumph  of  Woman,  a 
subject  suggested  by  the  third  and  fourth  chapters  of 
Esdras,  he  writes  : — 

And,  loving  beauty,  learn 
To  shun  abhorrent  all  the  mental  eye 
Beholds  deform'd  and  foul  ;  for  so  shall  love 
Climb  to  the  source  of  goodness.     God  of  Truth  I 
All  Just  I  All  Mighty  !  I  should  ill  deser\-e 
Thy  noblest  gift,  the  gift  divine  of  song, 
If,  so  content  with  ear-deep  melodies. 
To  please  all  profitless,  I  did  not  pour 
Severer  strains— of  Truth — eternal  Truth, 
Unchanging  Justice,  universal  Love.^ 

Joan  of  Arc,  published  in  1795,  is  interesting  as 
showing  how,  amid  the  unsettled  opinions  of  his  early 
manhood,  he  ever  kept  steadfastly  in  view  the  majesty 
of  goodness,  the  sense  of  God's  presence,  the  holiness  of 
the  Divine  attributes,  and  the  trust  in  immortality. 

The  second  book  of  The  Visioji  of  the  Maid,  pub- 
lished 1798,  is  quite  Dante-like  in  the  weird  energy 
and  moral  force  with  which  he  imagines  the  future 
doom  of  the  wanton,  the  epicure,  the  hypocrite,  the 
cruel,  and  so  forth. 

There  is  a  very  beautiful  poem  written  by  Southey 
during  a  tour  in  Portugal  in  1796,  after  a  visit  to  the 
Convent  of  Arrabida.  It  well  expresses  the  natural 
transition  by  which  a  healthy  mind  passes  out  of  an 
almost  envious  contemplation  of  peaceful  seclusion,  in 
the  midst  of  natural  beauty,  from  the  sins  and  troubles 
of  the  outward  world,  to  a  sense  of  the  active  energies 

1  Life  of  Southey,  i.  319.  -  Southey ' s /b^/.  Works,  82. 


436  Religious  Thought  in 

required  of  life  in  its  youth  and  prime.     Then  rest  duly     " 
earned  may  be  indeed  welcome. 

Happy  then 
To  muse  on  many  a  sorrow  overpast, 
And  think  the  business  of  the  day  is  done, 
And  as  the  evening  of  our  hves  shall  close — 
The  peaceful  evening — with  a  Christian's  hope 
Expect  the  dawn  of  everlasting  day.^ 

The  following  was  written  in  1799  to  the  memory  of 
his  dear  friend  Edmund  Seward  : — 


Not  to  the  grave,  not  to  the  grave,  my  Soul, 
Descend  to  contemplate 
The  form  that  once  was  dear  ! 

The  Spirit  is  not  there. 
Which  kindled  that  dead  eye. 
Which  throbb'd  in  that  cold  heart. 
Which  in  that  motionless  hand 
Hath  met  thy  friendly  grasp. 
The  Spirit  is  not  there  ! 
It  is  but  lifeless,  perishable  flesh 
That  moulders  in  the  grave  ; 
Earth,  air,  and  water's  ministering  particles 
Now  to  the  elements 
Resolved,  their  uses  done. 
Not  to  the  grave,  not  to  the  grave,  my  Soul, 
Follow  thy  friend  beloved, 
The  Spirit  is  not  there  ! 


Often  together  have  we  talk'd  of  death  ; 
How  sweet  it  were  to  see 
All  doubtful  things  made  clear  ; 
How  sweet  it  were  with  powers 

Such  as  the  Cherubim, 
To  view  the  depth  of  heaven  ! 

0  Edmund  !  thou  hast  first 
Begun  the  travel  of  Eternity  : 

1  look  upon  the  stars. 
And  think  that  thou  art  there, 

Unfetter'd  as  the  thought  that  follows  thee. 


Southey's  Poet.   Works,  137. 


I 


Old  English  Verse  437 


And  we  have  often  said  how  sweet  it  were, 
With  unseen  ministry  of  angel  power, 
To  watch  the  friends  we  loved. 
Edmund  I  we  did  not  err  ! 
Sure  I  have  felt  thy  presence  I     Thou  hast  given 

A  birth  to  holy  thought, 
Hast  kept  me  from  the  world  unstain'd  and  pure 
Edmund  !  we  did  not  err  ! 
Our  best  affections  here. 
They  are  not  like  the  toys  of  infancy  ; 
The  soul  outgrows  them  not  ; 
We  do  not  cast  them  off; 
Oh,  if  it  could  be  so, 
It  were  indeed  a  dreadful  thing  to  die  ! 


Not  to  the  grave,  not  to  the  grave,  my  Soul, 
Follow  thy  friend  beloved  ! 
But  in  the  lonely  hour. 
But  in  the  evening  walk, 
Think  that  he  companies  thy  solitude  ; 
Think  that  he  holds  with  thee 
Mysterious  intercourse  ; 
And  though  remembrance  wake  a  tear. 
There  will  be  joy  in  grief.^ 

Living  as  William  Wordsworth  did  into  the  middle 
of  this  century  (1770- 1850),  and  writing  poetry  almost 
to  the  last,  it  needs  a  certain  effort  to  think  of  him  as 
a  poet  of  the  last  century  also.  Yet  his  mind  attained 
its  full  development  in  and  through  the  stirring  events 
of  the  revolutionary  decade.  Although  the  mellowing 
influence  of  maturer  years  is  very  visible,  both  in  his 
poetry  and  in  his  entire  mode  of  thinking,  the  Words- 
worth of  1800  is,  in  every  line  of  his  writings,  unmistak- 
ably identical  with  the  Wordsworth  of  a  much  later 
date  ;  and  some  of  his  most  characteristic  poems  had 
been  already  written.  Much  that  has  been  said  within 
the  last  few  pages  in  reference  to  Coleridge  and  Southey 
may  be  repeated  of  him.     The  birth  of  a  great  republic, 

^  Southey 's  Poet.  Works ^  131. 


438  Religious  Thought  in 

full  of  promise,  beyond  the  Atlantic,  had  first  seized 
his  imagination  : — 

Before  me  shone  a  glorious  world — 
Fresh  as  a  banner  bright,  unfurl'd 

To  music  suddenly  : 
I  looked  upon  those  hills  and  plains, 
And  seem'd  as  if  let  loose  from  chains 

To  live  at  liberty.^ 

Then  came  the  outbreak  of  the  Revolution,  when  his 
hopes  were  all  aglow,  and  his  whole  spirit  fired  with 
enthusiastic  expectation  : — 

BHss  was  it  in  that  dawn  to  be  alive, 
But  to  be  young  was  very  heaven.^ 

He  watched  with  eager  hope  the  growth  of  a  new  era, 
emerging  triumphantly,  as  he  believed,  out  of  the  midst 
of  opposition  ;  yet  scarcely  dared  to  trust  in  all  he 
hoped  for : — 

All  cannot  be  :  the  promise  is  too  fair 
For  creatures  doom'd  to  breathe  terrestrial  air  : 
Yet  not  for  this  will  sober  reason  frown 
Upon  that  promise  nor  the  hope  disown  ; 
She  knows  that  only  from  high  aims  ensue 
Rich  guerdons,  and  to  them  alone  are  due.^ 

To  Heaven,  therefore,  with  religious  earnestness,  he 
commended  the  issues  of  what  he  confided  in  as  a  great 
and  holy  cause.  He  could  not  be  satisfied  to  watch 
from  a  distance  the  progress  of  the  movement.  He 
wandered  alone  through  France  ;  he  stayed  in  Paris  ;  he 
returned  to  it  again;  he  listened  to  Jacobin  harangues;  he 

I^ecame  a  patriot,  and  his  heart  was  all 
Given  to  the  people,  and  his  love  was  theirs."* 


1  W.  Wordsworth's  Poetical  Works  :   'Ruth'  (1799),  ii.  121. 

2  W.  Wordsworth's  Poet.  Works,  and  '  The  French  Revolution,  as  it 
appeared  to  Enthusiasts  at  its  Commencement,'  reprinted  from  the  Friend^ 

ii.  155- 

3  Id.  Descriptive  Sketches,  1 79 1-2,  i.  36. 

*  Prelude,    345  ;   Christopher   Wordsworth's   Memoirs  of   W.    Words- 
worth, i.  73. 


Old  English  Verse  439 

The  atrocities  that  followed  filled  him  with  horror  and 
dismay.  Robespierre's  fall  revived  for  a  brief  interval 
his  hopes.  The  news  of  it  reached  him  as  he  was 
crossing  the  sands  at  Ulverstone  : — 

'  Come  now,  ye  golden  times,' 
Said  I,  forth  pouring  on  those  open  sands 
A  hymn  of  triumph  :  '  as  the  Morning  comes 
From  out  the  bosom  of  the  Night,  come  ye." 

'  But  this  ecstasy  was  of  short  duration  :  the  cloud 
which  hung  over  France  became  as  dense  and  as  dark 
as  ever  ;  and  his  sadness  was  not  relieved,  but  pressed 
with  a  wearier  weight  upon  his  soul.'-  He  was  distressed 
with  a  very  turmoil  of  perplexity  and  doubt.  It  was  at 
this  time  he  owed  so  much  to  his  sister's  influence  : — 

Then  it  was — 
Thanks  to  the  bounteous  Giver  of  all  Good — 
That  the  beloved  sister,  in  whose  sight 
Those  days  were  pass'd.  .  .  . 
iMaintain'd  for  me  a  saving  intercourse 
With  my  true  self.^ 

His  democratical  opinions  gradually  passed  away,  but 
left  behind  tempered  feelings  of  deep  and  tender  sym- 
pathy with  the  poor,  and  a  quick  appreciation  of  the 
grace  and  simple  dignity  of  which  humble  life  is  sus- 
ceptible. From  'the  fretful  stir'  of  human  passion, 
from  '  the  burden  of  the  mystery,'  from 

The  heavy  and  the  weary  weight 
Of  all  this  unintelligible  world,* 

Wordsworth  fled  for  refuge  to  a  peaceful  spiritual  con- 
templation of  nature.  He  has  written  few  finer  or  more 
characteristic  verses  than  some  which  he  composed  in 
1798,  upon  revisiting  the  sweet  scenery  of  the  Wye  : — 

I  have  learn'd 
To  look  on  nature,  not  as  in  the  hour 
Of  thoughtless  youth  ;  but  hearing  oftentimes 
The  still  sad  music  of  humanity, 

1  Prelude,  291  ;  Memoirs,  etc.,  84.  2  Memoirs,  etc.,  84. 

^  Prelude,  309  ;  Memoirs,  etc. ,  i.  90. 

^  Poet.  Works:  '  Tintern  Abbey  '  (1798),  i.  151. 


440  Religious  Thought  in 

Nor  harsh,  nor  grating,  though  of  ample  power 

To  chasten  and  subdue.     And  I  have  fek 

A  presence  that  disturbs  me  with  the  joy 

Of  elevated  thoughts  ;  a  sense  sublime 

Of  something  far  more  deeply  interfused, 

Whose  dwelling  is  the  light  of  setting  suns, 

And  the  round  ocean  and  the  living  air, 

And  the  blue  sky,  and  in  the  mind  of  man  : 

A  motion  and  a  spirit,  that  impels 

All  thinking  things,  all  objects  of  all  thought, 

And  rolls  through  all  things.     Therefore  am  I  still 

A  lover  of  the  meadows,  and  the  woods 

And  mountains  ;  and  of  all  that  we  behold 

From  this  green  earth  ;  of  all  the  mighty  world 

Of  eye  and  ear — both  what  they  half  create 

And  what  perceive  ;  well  pleased  to  recognise 

In  nature,  and  the  language  of  the  sense. 

The  guide,  the  guardian  of  my  heart,  and  soul 

Of  all  my  moral  being.^ 

No  doubt  there  are  in  this  poem  and  in  others  of  the 
same  period  ^  traces  of  something  Hke  a  pantheistic 
philosophy  in  which  enthusiastic  love  of  nature  de- 
generates into  nature-worship,  and  the  thought  of  God 
is  merged  in  the  contemplation  of  the  works  of  God. 
At  the  least,  there  is  an  evident  tendency  to  exaggerate 
the  power  of  nature  as  a  means  of  purifying  humanity, 
and  supporting  it  amid  infirmity  and  sorrows.^  In  his 
later  years,  while  his  delight  in  natural  beauty  remained 
strong  as  ever,  he  was  more  invariably  quick  to  discern 
that  the  soul  of  man,  fallen  as  it  is  from  innocence, 
cannot  find  the  wisdom  and  the  happiness  it  craves  in 
any  mere  outward  things.  It  needs  aids  and  remedies 
more  truly  divine  than  these.  The  following  passage, 
lovely  as  it  is,  needs  the  correction  supplied  in  the 
later  verses,  quoted  next  after  them  : — 

Knowing  that  Nature  never  did  betray 
The  heart  that  loved  her  ;  'tis  her  privilege 
Through  all  the  years  of  this  our  life,  to  lead 
From  joy  to  joy  ;  for  she  can  so  inform 

^  Poet.  Works:  '  Tintern  Abbey '  (1798),  i.  151. 

-  Cf.  his  verses  on  the  Simplon  Pass  (1799),  ii.  100,  and  those  upon  the 
'  Influences  of  Nature  in  his  Childhood,'  i.  93,  also  in  1799. 
^  Cf.  Memoirs^  i.  48. 


i 


Old  English  Verse  "  441 

The  mind  that  is  within  us,  so  impress 
With  quietness  and  beauty,  and  so  feed 
With  lofty  thoughts,  that  neither  evil  tongues. 
Rash  judgments,  nor  the  sneers  of  selfish  men, 
Nor  greetings  where  no  kindness  is,  nor  all 
The  dreary  intercourse  of  daily  life 
Shall  e'er  prevail  against  us,  or  disturb 
Our  cheerful  faith,  that  all  which  we  behold 
Is  full  of  blessings.^ 

Conipare  it  with  the  following  part  of  his  4th  '  Evening 
Voluntary,'  written  thirty-six  years  afterwards  : — 

But  who  is  innocent  ?     By  grace  divine. 
Nor  otherwise,  O  Nature  !  we  are  thine. 
Through  good  and  evil  thine,  in  just  degree 
Of  rational  and  manly  sympathy. 
To  all  that  Earth  from  pensive  hearts  is  stealing, 
And  Heaven  is  now  to  gladden'd  eyes  revealing, 
Add  every  charm  the  Universe  can  show 
Through  every  change  its  aspects  undergo — 
Care  may  be  respited,  but  not  repeal'd  ; 
No  perfect  cure  grows  on  that  bounded  field. 
Vain  is  the  pleasure,  a  false  calm  the  peace, 
If  He,  through  whom  alone  our  conflicts  cease. 
Our  virtuous  hopes  without  relapse  advance. 
Come  not  to  speed  the  soul's  deliverance  ?  ^ 

But  from  the  firsttherewas  little  fear  that  Wordsworth's 
influence  could  be  otherwise  than  conducive  to  true  re- 
ligious feeling.  The  pure  and  genuine  enthusiasm  of  a 
mind  sensitively  awake  to  a  spiritual  presence  in  all 
that  surrounded  him,  and  to  '  the  types  and  symbols  of 
eternity,'  ^  manifested  to  man  in  outward  forms  of  earth 
and  sea  and  sky,  is  almost  sure  to  be  beneficial  to  those 
who  feel  its  influence.  Even  if  it  be  in  excess,  it  is  not 
likely  to  lead  men  astray.  Those  finer  chords  of  feeling 
to  which  it  appeals  are  very  rarely  in  danger,  among 
the  majority  of  even  cultivated  men,  of  being  excited 
into  undue  or  too  frequent  action.  The  reader,  however 
much  he  may  admire,  is  far  more  likely  to  lag  behind 

^  Poet.  Works  :  '  Tintern  Abbey  '  {1798),  i.  154  ;  '  One  Impulse  from  a 
Vernal  Wood'  {179S),  iv.  181. 

^  Poet.  Works:  '  Fourth  Evening  Voluntary,' iv.  127. 
^  Id.  :  'The  Simplon  Pass'  (1799),  ii.  100. 


442  Religious  Thought  in 

the  poet's  thought,  than  to  be  led  into  advance  of  it 
Moreover,  such  enthusiasm  is  so  closely  allied  to  the 
religious  sentiment,  that  it  may  be  generally  trusted  in 
the  end  to  favour  and  promote  it.  Whatever  stirs  the 
mind  to  reflect  upon  truth  and  beauty,  upon  the  ideal 
and  supra-sensual,  upon  the  traces  of  a  Divine  image 
both  in  nature  and  humanity,  is  adapted  to  enlarge  the 
soul  and  prepare  it  for  a  glad  reception  of  the  noblest 
doctrines  of  Christianity.  Wordsworth,  throughout  his 
life,  in  his  earlier  as  well  as  in  his  later  works,  was  a  true 
religious  teacher,  and  a  teacher  whose  direct  or  indirect 
influence  has  been  very  widely  felt.  The  CJiristian  Year, 
for  instance,  even  if  it  had  been  written,  would  certainly 
never  have  gained  the  popularity  it  has  had,  were  it  not 
for  the  growth  of  that  finer,  semi-religious  love  of  nature 
which  Wordsworth  and  his  brother  writers  did  so  much 
to  disseminate  and  increase. 

Charles  Lamb  (1775-1834)  was  also  one  in  that 
society  of  poets,  of  whom  Wordsworth,  Coleridge, 
Southey,  and  Rogers  were  the  other  principal  members. 
His  earlier  poems  were  published  in  1797,  conjointly 
with  other  verses  by  Coleridge  and  Charles  Lloyd. 
Southey  hailed  the  volume  with  delight,  and  thought 
that  none  other  that  had  lately  appeared  could  be  com- 
pared with  it.^  Certainly,  there  is  often  a  grave  and 
gentle  reflectiveness  about  Lamb's  poetry  which  is  very 
fascinating.  He  had  no  love  for  the  country.  '  Beyond 
all  other  men  whom  I  have  ever  met,'  writes  his 
biographer,  ' he  was  essentially  metropolitan.'-  When 
Wordsworth  dwelt  upon  the  beauties  of  the  Lake 
Country,  and  pressed  him  to  come  and  see  him  there, 
he  answered  that  he  was  '  not  at  all  romance-bit  about 
Nature.  .  .  .  When  all  is  said,  it  is  but  a  house  to  live 
in.'^  Nevertheless,  he  was  a  lover  of  Wordsworth's 
poetry  ;  and  Coleridge,  his  old  school-fellow  at  Christ's 
Hospital,  he  loved  and  admired  throughout  life  with  a 

^  Life  of  R.  Southey,  by  his  Son,  i.  329. 

'  Barry  Cornwall's  Memoir  of  Charles  Lamb,  222.  ^  Id.  84, 


Old  English  Verse  443 

fervency  of  attachment  far  surpassing  that  of  any 
common  friendship. 

Lamb  had  many  sympathies  in  common  with  his 
friends,  and,  like  theirs,  his  poetry  was  always  pure  and 
high-toned.  He  not  unfrequently  touches  in  his  verse 
upon  religious  subjects,  as  in  his  '  Vision  of  Repentance,' 
or  in  his  lines  upon  the  '  Sabbath  Bells,'  which — 

.  .  .  wherever  heard, 
Strike  pleasant  on  the  sense,  most  Hke  the  voice 
Of  one,  who  from  the  far-off  hills  proclaims 
Tidings  of  good  to  Zion.^ 

In  the  following,  from  his  '  Lines  on  Leonardo  da  Vinci's 
Picture  of  the  Virgin  of  the  Rocks,'  there  is  a  some- 
thing which  may  slightly  remind  the  reader  of  a  passage 
in  Wordsworth's  noble  '  Ode  to  Immortality  : ' — 

But  at  her  side 
An  angel  doth  abide, 
With  such  a  perfect  joy 
As  no  dim  doubts  alloy, 
An  intuition, 
A  glory,  an  amenity. 
Passing  the  dark  condition 
Of  blind  humanity, 
As  if  he  surely  knew 
All  the  blest  wonders  would  ensue, 
Or  he  had  lately  left  the  upper  sphere, 
And  had  read  all  the  sovran  schemes  and  divine  riddles 
there.2 

He  was  certainly  not  one  of  those  who  have  thought 
that  poetry  is  exercised  to  a  disadvantage  upon  divine 
subjects.     Witness  the  following  : — 

The  truant  Fancy  was  a  wanderer  ever — 
A  lone  enthusiast  maid.     She  loves  to  walk 
In  the  bright  visions  of  empyreal  light, 
By  the  green  pastures  and  the  fragrant  meads. 
Where  the  perpetual  flowers  of  Eden  blow  ; 
By  cr>^stal  streams,  and  by  the  living  waters, 
Along  whose  margin  grows  the  wondrous  tree 

^  Poetical  Works  of  Charles  Lamb,  70.  ^  /^  ^g^ 


444  Religious  Thought  in 

Whose  leaves  shall  heal  the  nations  ;  underneath 
Whose  holy  shade  a  refuge  shall  be  found 
From  pain  and  want,  and  all  the  ills  that  wait 
On  mortal  life,  from  sin  and  death  for  ever.^ 

Thomas  Campbell  (1777- 1844)  published  his  Plea- 
sures of  Hope  in  the  last  year  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
when  he  was  scarcely  twenty-two  years  old.  He  too, 
although  a  mere  boy  at  the  time,  had  been  infected 
with  the  same  revolutionary  enthusiasm  which  filled 
the  minds  of  most  young  men  of  talent.  The  execu- 
tions and  massacres  that  took  place  in  Paris  had  indeed 
sickened  and  disgusted  him  ;  but  he  also  deplored  them 
as  signal  calamities  to  the  cause  of  peace  and  liberty 
in  England.^  In  all  the  principal  poetry  of  the  last 
years  of  the  century,  religious  and  political  hopes  were 
more  or  less  blended.  It  was  so  with  Campbell.  The 
Pleasures  of  Hope ^  though  not  in  any  direct  way  either 
a  political  or  a  religious  poem,  is  to  some  extent  both 
one  and  the  other.  Hopes  of  a  nobler  liberty  and  hopes 
of  immortality  alike  enter  into  it. 

There  were  other  Scotchmen  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury who  contributed  to  the  store  of  sacred  poetry,  of 
whom  mention  must  be  made.  The  greatest  poetical 
genius  produced  by  Scotland  during  that  period  was 
of  course  Robert  Burns  (1759- 1796).  Notwithstanding 
the  sensuous  element  which  too  much  predominates  in 
his  poems,  many  of  his  verses  show  that  he  could  both 
reverence  a  deeper  religious  life  in  others,  and  that  he 
was  not  without  knowledge  of  it  in  his  owm  experience. 
The  beautiful  picture  of  household  piety  in  '  The  Cottar's 
Saturday  Night '  is  a  familiar  example.  His  '  Prayer  for 
a  Family'  may  be  added,  concluding  with  the  verse — 

When  soon  or  late  they  reach  that  coast. 

O'er  life's  rough  ocean  driven. 
May  they  rejoice,  no  wanderer  lost, 

A  family  in  heaven  ! 


^  Poetical  Works  of  Charles  Lamb,  7 1 . 

2  W.  Beattie's  Life  and  Letters  of  T.  Campbell,  i.  86. 


Old  English  Verse  445 

Also  his  prayer  for  God's  forgiveness,  beginning,  '  O 
Thou,  unknown,  Almighty  Cause  of  all  my  hope  and 
fear  ! '  We  are  told  that  in  his  later  days  '  he  had  the 
Bible  with  him,  and  read  it  almost  continually.  .  .  . 
His  sceptical  doubts  no  longer  troubled  him,  and  he 
had  at  last  the  faith  of  a  confiding  Christian.'  ^ 

There  are  a  few  graceful  stanzas  upon  life  and 
eternity,  and  our  hope  beyond  the  grave,  in  James 
Beattie's  Minstrel  {1771),  and  in  his  Hermit  {1767).- 

James  Grahanie  (1765-1811),  a  barrister  who  after- 
wards took  orders,  is  best  known — though  not  so  well 
known  as  he  deserves  to  be — by  his  poem  entitled  The 
Sabbath.  A  thoroughly  good  man,  of  refined  poetical 
temperament,  and  (as  is  shown  by  his  Birds  of  Scotland) 
an  observant  naturalist,  his  poems  breathe  a  charac- 
teristic spirit  of  tranquil  piety,  and  a  hearty  relish  for 
the  sights  and  sounds  of  quiet  country  life.  They 
abound  in  delightful  passages.  The  very  opening  lines 
of  his  principal  poem  may  be  instanced  : — 

How  still  the  morning  of  the  hallow'd  day  ! 

Mute  is  the  voice  of  rural  labour,  hush'd 

The  ploughboy's  whistle  and  the  milkmaid's  song. 

The  scythe  lies  glittering  in  the  dewy  wreath 

Of  tedded  grass,  mingled  with  fading  flowers 

That  yester-morn  bloom'd  waving  in  the  breeze  : 

Sounds  the  most  faint  attract  the  ear — the  hum 

Of  early  bee,  the  trickling  of  the  dew. 

The  distant  bleating,  midway  up  the  hill. 

Calmness  sits  throned  on  yon  unmoving  cloud. 

To  him  who  wanders  o'er  the  upland  leas. 

The  blackbird's  note  comes  mellower  from  the  dale  ; 

And  sweeter  from  the  sky  the  gladsome  lark 

Warbles  his  heaven-tuned  song  ;  the  lulling  brook 

Murmurs  more  gently  down  the  deep- worn  glen  ; 

While  from  yon  lowly  roof,  whose  curling  smoke 

O'ermounts  the  mist,  is  heard,  at  intervals, 

The  voice  of  psalms,  the  simple  song  of  praise.^ 


^  Saunders's  Evenings  with  the  Sacred  Poets,  361. 

-  Beattie's  Poems:    The  Minstrel,   27,    and    last  stanzas  of  The  Her- 
mit, 93. 

^  Poems  by  James  Grahame,  1807,  i.  3      The  Sabbath. 


44^  Religious  Thought  in 

Among  other  passages  which  it  would  be  a  pleasure 
to  quote  may  be  mentioned  that  which  describes  the 
shepherd  boy  reading  some  Sunday  of  David  or  of 
Joseph,  as  he  lies  stretched  upon  the  sward  in  some  far- 
off  glen,^  or  the  solitary  on  a  lonely  island,^  or  the 
hymns  sounding  over  the  sea  from  the  missionary  ship,^ 
or  (from  the  Biblical  Pictures)  Jesus  calming  the  tem- 
pest,"* or  the  Resurrection  of  the  Saviour.''  Saunders 
tells  a  pretty  story  of  his  bringing  home  his  work  on 
The  Sabbath,  just  after  it  had  been  anonymously  pub- 
lished, to  his  wife,  who  did  not  know  that  he  was  the 
author  of  it,  and  of  her  exclaiming  as  she  read  it,  *  Ah, 
James,  if  you  could  but  write  a  poem  like  this  ! ' 

Among  Scotch  hymn  writers  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, Ralph  Erskine  (1685- 175 2),  minister  at  Dunferm- 
line, was  one  of  the  earliest.  His  Gospel  Sonnets  and 
Spiritual  Songs  passed  very  soon  through  at  least 
twenty-two  editions.  Many  of  them  are  too  full  of 
dogmatic  antithesis,  at  all  events  for  ordinary  English 
taste.  But  in  many  there  is  much  beauty.  Seven  out 
of  the  twenty  stanzas  of  one  of  them  may  be  found 
both  in  the  Book  of  Praise  and  in  Rogers's  Lyra  Britan- 
nica. 

The  following  is  entitled  The  Heavenly  Song : — 

Happy  the  company  that 's  gone 

From  cross  to  crown,  from  thrall  to  throne  ; — 

How  loud  they  sing  upon  that  shore 

To  which  they  sailed  in  heart  before  I 

'  Death  from  all  death  hath  set  us  free, 
And  will  our  gain  for  ever  be  ; 
Death  loosed  the  massy  chains  of  woe, 
To  let  the  mournful  captives  go. 

'  Death  is  to  us  a  sweet  repose, — 
The  bud  was  oped  to  show  the  rose  ; 
The  cage  was  broke  to  let  us  fly. 
And  build  our  happy  nest  on  high. 

'  Earth  was  to  us  a  seat  of  war, 
On  thrones  of  triumph  now  we  are  ; 

^  Poems  by  James  Grahajue,  9  :   The  Sabbath.  ~  Id.  27. 

3  Id.  29-31.  ^  Id.  77.  5  /^  82. 


Old  English  Verse  447 

We  long'd  to  see  our  Jesus  dear, 

And  sought  Him  there,  but  found  Him  here. 

'  This,  then,  does  bHss  enough  afford  ; 
We  are  for  ever  with  the  Lord  ; 
We  want  no  more,  for  all  is  given, 
His  Presence  is  the  heart  of  heaven  ! ' 

While  thus  I  laid  my  listening  ear 
Close  to  the  door  of  heaven  to  hear  ; 
And  then  the  sacred  page  did  view 
Which  told  me  all  I  heard  was  true  ; 

Yet  show'd  me  that  the  heavenly  song 
Surpasses  every  mortal  tongue. 
With  such  unutterable  strains 
As  none  infettering  flesh  attains, — 

Then  said  I  :  '  O  to  mount  away, 
And  leave  this  clog  of  heavy  clay  ! 
Let  wings  of  time  more  swiftly  fly, 
That  I  may  join  the  songs  on  high  ! '  ^ 

Thomas  Blacklock's  hymns  and  sacred  poems,  pub- 
lished 1746,  may  be  found  in  the  eighteenth  volume  of 
Chalmers's  English  Poets.  His  imitation  of  the  149th 
Psalm  is  perhaps  the  best.^ 

Southey  speaks  of  Michael  Bruce  (1746- 1677)  as  'a 
youth  of  real  genius.'  ^  His  '  Elegy  on  the  Spring,' 
written  in  prospect  of  an  early  death,  is  very  pretty, 
and  ends  with  the  pathetic  verse — 

There  let  me  sleep,  forgotten  in  the  clay, 

When  death  shall  shut  these  weary,  aching  eyes — 

Rest  in  the  hope  of  an  eternal  day, 

Till  the  long  night  is  gone,  and  the  last  morn  arise."* 

The  following  are  four  verses  from  '  Simeon  waiting,' 
out  of  Palgrave's  Treasury  of  Sacred  Song: — 

With  holy  joy  upon  his  face 
The  good  old  father  smiled, 


^  From  Lyra  Christiana,  ed.  by  H.  L.  L.,  556. 
^  Chalmers's  Ejtglish  Poets,  xviii.  186. 
2  Southey's  Later  English  Poets,  ii.  368. 
^  Anderson's  British  Poets,  xi.  294. 


448  Religious  1  hought  in 

While  fondly  in  his  wither'd  arms 
He  clasp'd  the  promised  Child. 

And  then  he  lifted  up  to  Heaven 

An  earnest  asking  eye ; 
'  My  joy  is  full,  my  hour  is  come  ; 

Lord,  let  Thy  servant  die. 

'At  last  my  arms  embrace  my  Lord, 

Now  let  their  vigour  cease  ; 
At  last  my  eyes  my  Saviour  see, 

Now  let  them  close  in  peace  ! 

'  The  star  and  glory  of  the  land 

Hath  now  begun  to  shine  ; 
The  morning  that  shall  gild  the  globe 

Breaks  on  these  eyes  of  mine  I ' 

It  appears  to  have  been  clearly  established,  both  by 
William  Mackelvie  and  Alexander  B.  Grosart,  that  some 
fine  and  well-known  hymns  published  in  1773  among 
the  Scotch  Paraphrases,  under  the  name  of  John  Logan, 
are  really  the  compositions  of  Bruce.  Logan  was  in 
possession  of  his  deceased  friend's  manuscripts,  and 
published  the  hymns  as  his  own.  Among  the  most 
familiar  of  them  are, '  Where  high  the  heavenly  temple 
stands,'  '  O  God  of  Bethel,  by  whose  hand,'  and  '  Behold 
the  mountain  of  the  Lord.'  ^ 

John  Logan  (1748- 1788)  has  paid  the  penalty  of  his 
dishonesty  by  its  being  no  longer  known  what  are  justly 
to  be  attributed  to  him  as  his  own  production.  His 
repute  on  questions  of  psalmody  was  at  one  time  very 
great  in  Scotland.^ 

William  Cameron,  John  Morrison,  and  Hugh  Blair 
were  all  associated  with  Logan  in  editing  the  Scottish 
Paraphrases  of  1773.  Cameron's  hymn,  'How  bright 
these  glorious  spirits  shine,'  though  mainly  his  own,  is 
founded  upon  one  of  Watts's.^     Morrison's  'The  race 

^  Logan's  Poems,  Anderson's  British  Poets ^  xi.  1028  ;  Life  of  Logan ^ 
in  id. ,  and  Life  of  M.  Briuc^  id.  xi.  273  ;  Rogers's  Lyra  Brit.  97  ;  Book 
of  Praise^  494. 

^  Anderson's  British  Poets,  xi.  1028. 

^  Lyra  Brit.  122  ;  Book  of  Praise,  cxiv. 


Old  English  Verse  449 

that  long  in  darkness  pined  '  ^  is  better  known  as  slightly 
altered  by  the  compilers  of  Hymns  Ancient  and  Modern. 
Blair's  hymns  were  none  of  them  altogether  original. 

It  might  perhaps  seem,  from  the  preceding  sketch, 
that  the  eighteenth  century  was,  after  all,  rich  rather 
than  not  in  sacred  poetry.  Certainly  it  was  not  so 
barreri  in  this  respect  as  some  have  been  apt  to  think. 
Throughout  its  course  there  was  no  period  in  which 
verse  of  a  more  or  less  religious  cast  failed  either  to  be 
produced  or  to  find  a  very  considerable  number  of  readers. 
Yet  it  is  equally  certain  that,  until  it  began  to  draw 
near  its  close,  the  predominating  influences  of  the  age 
were  essentially  prosaic,  and  very  unfavourable  to  any 
poetry  which  required  for  its  due  appreciation  anything 
more  than  sound  reason  and  ordinary  practical  sense. 
The  state  of  feeling  which  existed  among  the  cultivated 
classes  in  England  encouraged  poetry  of  a  satirical, 
moral,  or  didactic  character ;  it  applauded  art,  polish, 
and  correctness  ;  it  was  willing  to  listen,  not  too  intently, 
to  the  voice  of  its  counsellors  when  they  discoursed, 
either  in  verse  or  prose,  upon  the  wisdom  of  virtue  and 
the  folly  of  vice,  upon  the  reasonableness  of  religious 
life  and  the  happiness  which  attends  it,  and  upon  the 
evil  consequences  which  a  contrary  course  must  bring. 
But  there  was  little  intensity  either  of  thought  or  feeling, 
little  spiritual  activity,  little  to  stir  the  soul  and  excite 
the  imagination.  Man  cannot  live  with  the  mysteries 
of  life  around  him,  and  that  of  death  in  front,  without 
such  reflections  on  time  and  eternity  and  the  meaning 
and  object  of  existence,  as  cannot  be  altogether  prosaic 
or  commonplace.  A  Christian  faith  cannot,  in  all  its 
leading  features,  be  otherwise  than  sublime.  Where 
Christianity,  however  depressed,  is  still  a  great  power, 
there  can  be  no  age  so  wanting  in  depth  of  spiritual 
sentiment  as  to  be  altogether  without  materials  for  a 
religious  poetry  of  a  very  high  order.     There  were  no 

^  Lyra  Brit.  430;  Book  of  Praise,  xxxix.  cccxliv, 
2F 


450  Religious  Thottght  in 

influences  in  the  eighteenth  century  so  uncongenial  to 
success  that  a  truly  great  religious  poet,  if  such  a  one 
had  arisen,  could  not  have  triumphed  over  them.  But, 
apart  from  the  spiritual  and  moral  grandeur  inherent  to 
it  and  inalienable  from  it,  Christianity  had  certainly, 
through  various  causes,  come  to  be  generally  regarded 
from  a  lower  and,  so  to  say,  a  more  worldly  level  than 
has  been  at  all  usual.  It  will  be  readily  understood 
that  when  theology  was  in  this  condition,  theological 
poetry  was  very  apt  to  be  either  vague  and  impersonal, 
or  frigid  and  deficient  in  warmth,  or  to  have  an  air  of 
being  somewhat  unreal  and  conventional.  In  the  latter 
case  an  attempt  might  probably  be  made  to  conceal  the 
deficiency  by  a  turgid,  declamatory  style.  All  these 
faults  did,  in  fact,  abound.  Perhaps  in  this  chapter  the 
attention  of  the  reader  has  been  too  much  directed  to 
passages  of  merit,  and  too  little  to  others  which  might 
have  exemplified  characteristic  blemishes.  But  the 
former  is  by  far  the  most  grateful  task ;  and  to  have 
done  both  might  have  exceeded  necessary  limits. 
All,  however,  who  have  any  knowledge  of  the  poetical 
literature  of  the  period  under  review  will  be  well  aware 
that  the  deficiencies  here  noted  were  very  common.  The 
solemn  litany  of  sacred  song  was  at  all  times  far  indeed 
from  being  silent,  and  its  notes  were  often  worthy  of 
the  greatness  of  its  theme  ;  but  throughout  a  great  part 
of  the  century  it  certainly  fell  short,  in  copiousness, 
richness,  and  fervour,  both  of  a  preceding  and  of  a 
subsequent  age. 

It  will  have  been  noticed  that  some  of  the  best  sacred 
poetry  which  the  century  produced  had  its  origin  in 
quarters  which  lay  apart  from  the  main  current  of 
popular  thought.  Ken,  deprived  of  his  bishopric,  and 
singing  to  his  lute  in  the  quiet  seclusion  of  Longleat, 
belonged  rather  to  the  Churchmen  of  George  Herbert's 
day.  Norris  was  the  last  survivor  of  the  noble  school 
of  Oxford  and  Cambridge  Platonists.  The  sympathies 
of  Hamilton  and  Walter  Harte  were  all  with  the  dis- 
possessed adherents  of  the  Stuart  rule.    Elizabeth  Rowe, 


Old  E7iglish  Verse  451 

Byrom,  and  Blake,  however  much  they  might  differ 
from  one  another,  were  all  in  a  greater  or  less  degree 
mystics,  little  understood  by  their  own  contemporaries. 
Among  the  hymn-writers  whose  compositions  form  by 
far  the  most  distinctive  and  prominent  feature  in  the 
sacred  poetry  of  the  century,  Watts,  Doddridge,  and 
others,  were  Dissenters.  And  though  Methodism  rose 
up  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  English  Church,  it  was  too 
generally  treated  as  an  alien  and  an  enemy ;  and  the 
rich  accompaniment  of  sacred  song  by  which,  through 
the  talents  of  Charles  Wesley,  its  rise  and  progress  was 
attended,  was  for  a  long  time  neglected  and  discarded 
by  the  rulers  of  the  National  Church.  Toplady,  Newton, 
Cowper,  and  the  other  Evangelical  hymn-writers  might 
have  shared  the  same  fate  if  Wesleyanism  had  not 
prepared  the  way  for  them,  and  created  just  that  stir  in 
the  waters  of  which  the  spiritual  life  of  the  country 
stood  so  greatly  in  need.  As  it  was,  it  cannot  be  said 
that  Evangelicalism  was  in  any  way  in  discord  with  the 
prevalent  development  of  popular  religious  thought 
towards  the  latter  part  of  the  century.  And  throughout 
the  period,  if  a  good  deal  of  its  graver  poetry  was  not 
that  which  the  age  could  best  appreciate,  there  was  also 
a  very  considerable  residuum  which  fairly  and  genuinely 
represented  the  predominant  style  of  thinking  among 
educated  people  upon  religious  questions  in  which  they 
were  seriously  interested. 

The  last  decade  of  the  century  stands  in  many 
respects  on  a  very  different  footing  from  the  rest.  In 
none  is  this  distinctiveness  more  marked  than  in  the 
general  character  of  its  poetry.  When  so  much  that 
was  old  seemed  rapidly  passing  away,  and  the  new  was 
so  full  of  promise  to  some,  so  suggestive  of  fear  and 
disquietude  to  others — when  faith  and  hope,  however 
much  alloyed  by  visions  of  earth,  were  at  all  events 
vivid  with  life,  and  when  religious  doubts,  on  the  other 
hand,  were  no  longer  mere  speculative  difficulties, 
benumbing  action  rather  than  actively  opposing  it,  but 
giants    in    the   path    with   whom    mortal    combat   was 


452     Religious  Thought  m  Old  English  Verse 

inevitable — when  the  foundations  of  society  were  in  a 
state  of  upheaval  and  commotion,  and  all  questions, 
divine  and  human,  were  being  boldly  canvassed — when 
great  virtues  and  great  wickedness  came  into  strong 
collision — when  brilliant  promises  were  rudely  checked, 
and  when  it  seemed  to  others  that  glorious  light  might 
rise  up  suddenly  out  of  utter  darkness— at  such  a  time 
it  was  not  possible  that  great  ideas  should  lose  their 
strength  through  mere  inactivity  and  torpor.  To  the 
partisans  of  the  new,  conceptions  of  Christian  freedom, 
Christian  brotherhood,  and  the  like,  had  become 
pregnant  with  meanings  they  had  never  dreamt  of 
before.  The  partisans  of  the  old  learnt  to  treasure  with 
a  greater  love  blessings  which,  through  familiar  use, 
they  had  thought  little  of  before — to  appreciate  the 
advantages  they  possessed,  to  overlook  their  deficiencies 
— to  cling  to  all  noble  traditions  of  the  past  with  a 
tenacity  proportioned  to  their  newly-awakened  fears. 
It  was  a  time  for  revived  enthusiasm  and  increased 
intensity  of  thought.  The  period  of  acute  suspense 
passed  quickly  away,  and  caused  very  little  outward 
change  in  England.  Ancient  feeling  and  established 
ideas,  both  in  religion  and  in  politics,  were  confirmed 
rather  than  shaken  by  the  dangers  which  had  so  closely 
threatened  them.  But  in  religion,  as  in  politics,  a  real 
change  had  taken  place — more  sensible  in  its  after 
results  than  in  its  immediate  issues.  The  eighteenth 
century  had  practically  expired  before  its  years  had 
arrived  at  their  natural  term.  Its  latest  portion  belongs 
more  to  the  present  than  to  the  past :  in  nothing  more 
so  than  in  its  poetry.  Poetry,  by  virtue  of  that 
imaginative  faculty  which  is  closely  akin  to  prediction, 
may  often  lay  claim  to  advance  in  the  van  of  human 
movement. 


INDEX 


Addison,  Joseph,  325. 
Akenside,  Mark,  369. 
Alcuin,  18. 
Aldhelm,  7. 

Alexander,  Sir  W.,  225. 
Alfred,  King,  23. 
Allen,  James,  401. 
Alphabet  Verses,  8^. 
Amner,  John,  220. 
Andrew,  St..  Legend  of,  9. 
Arthurian  Romance,  51. 
Askewe,  Anne,  129. 
Audelay,  John,  93. 
Austin,  John,  253. 
Awdley.     See  Audelay. 
'  Ayenbit  of  Inwyt, '  74. 
Aylet,  Robert,  219. 

Bacon,  Lord,  195. 

Bakewell,  John,  395. 

Bale,  John,  123, 

Ballads,  Sacred,  145,  182. 

'  Ballates,  Gude  and  Godlie,'  180. 

Bannatyne  MS.,  188. 

Barbauld,  A.  L.,  421. 

Barbour,  John,  86. 

Barnes,  Barnaby,  164. 

Baxter,  Richard,  295. 

Beattie,  James,  445. 

Beaumont,  Sir  John,  sen.,  198. 

Beaumont,  Sir  John,  jun.,  200. 

Beaumont,  Joseph,  237. 

Becon,  Thomas,  145. 

Beddome,  Benjamin,  401. 

Bede,  18. 

Beowulf,  7. 

Berridge,  John,  396. 

Bestiaries,  34. 

Billingsly,  Nicholas,  253. 

Billyng,  William,  90. 

Blacklock,  Thomas,  447. 

Blackmore,  Sir  Richard,  316. 


Blair,  Hugh,  448. 
Blair,  Robert,  368. 
Blake,  William,  423. 
Boden,  James,  401. 
Bolton,  Edmund,  166. 
Boyse,  Samuel,  379. 
Bradford,  William,  240. 
Brampton,  Thomas,  91. 
Breton,  Nicholas,  144. 
Brewer,  Jehoiada,  401. 
Brooke,  F.  Greville,  Lord,  171, 
Broome,  William,  337. 
Brown,  Moses,  411. 
Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  283. 
Browne,  Simon,  358. 
Bruce,  Michael,  447. 
Brunne,  Robert  of,  65. 
Bunyan,  John,  291. 
Burder,  George,  401. 
Burns,  Robert,  444. 
Byrd,  William,  153. 
Byrom,  John,  381. 

C^DMON,  I. 
Cameron,  William,  448. 
Campbell,  Thomas,  444. 
Campion,  Thomas,  220. 
Carey,  Patrick,  253. 
Carlyle,  John,  411. 
Carols,  104,  179. 
Carter,  Eliz. ,  386, 
Cartwright,  William,  225. 
Castro,  Richard  de,  98. 
Cennick,  John,  395. 
Chamberlayne,  James.  304. 
Chatterton,  Thomas,  385. 
Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  79. 
Chudleigh,  Lady,  310. 
Churchyard,  Thomas,  153. 
Coleridge,  S.  T. ,  425. 
'Complaint  of  Christ,'  96. 
Constable,  Henry,  165. 

453 


454 


Index 


Cosin,  John,  Bishop,  246. 
Cotton,  Charles,  289. 
Cotton,  Nathaniel,  412. 
Coverdale,  Miles,  130,  179. 
Cowley,  Abraham,  2!;9. 
Cowper,  William,  408,  413. 
Crabbe,  George,  422. 
Crashaw,  Richard,  257. 
Croke,  John,  129. 
Cross,  the,  Poems  on,  6,  82. 
Crossman,  Samuel,  284. 
Crowley,  Robert,  138. 
'  Cursor  Mundi,'  45. 
Cynewulf,  8, 

Dan  Michel,  74. 
Danyel,  John,  176. 
Davenant,  Sir  W.,  290. 
Davies,  Sir  John,  174. 
Davy,  Adam,  71. 
Denys,  Richard,  165. 
Doddridge,  Philip,  354. 
Donne,  John,  211. 
Dorrington,  Theophilus,  288. 
Douglas,  Gavin,  113. 
Drayton,  Michael,  210. 
Drummond,  William,  235. 
Dryden,  John,  299. 
Dunbar,  William,  112. 
Dyer,  Sir  Edward,  134. 

Edwards,  Richard,  142. 
Elizabeth,  Princess,  197. 
Erskine,  Ralph,  446. 
Essex,  Robert,  Earl  of,  136. 
Essex,  Walter,  Earl  of,  136. 
Exeter  Codex,  8,  ii. 

Fawcett,  John,  401. 
FitzgeofTrey,  Charles,  222. 
Flatman,  Thomas,  295. 
Fletcher,  Giles,  202. 
Fletcher,  Phineas,  201. 
Fraunce,  Abraham,  157. 
Fuller,  Thomas,  246. 

Gambold,  John,  383. 
'Garland,  Small,'  etc.,  285. 
Gascoigne,  George,  146. 
Gay,  John,  336. 
'  Genesis  and  Exodus,'  32. 
Gibbons,  Dr.,  400. 


Gifford,  Humphrey,  151. 
Gloucester,  Robert  of,  47. 
Godric,  25. 

Goldsmith,  Oliver,  379. 
'Gorgious  Gallery,'  etc.,  144. 
Gower,  John,  80. 
Grahame,  James,  445. 
Gray,  Thomas,  373. 
Green,  Thomas,  411. 
Gregor,  Charles,  401. 
Greville,  Fulke,  171. 
Guildford,  Nich.  de,  29. 
Guthlac,  Legend  of,  13. 

Haeington,  William,  242. 
Hales,  Thomas,  37. 
Hall,  Joseph,  Bishop,  239. 
Hamilton,  William,  370. 
Hammond,  William,  393. 
'  Handlyng  Synne,'  65. 
Hannay,  Patrick,  208. 
Harington,  Sir  John,  198. 
Hart,  Joseph,  398. 
Harte,  Walter,  371. 
Harvey,  Charles,  244. 
Haryngton,  John,  135. 
Hawes,  Stephen,  127. 
Haweis,  Thomas,  402. 
Hawker,  Robert,  411. 
Higinbotham,  O.,  402. 
Henryson,  Robert,  109. 
Herbert,  George,  214. 
Herrick,  Robert,  265. 
Heylyn,  Peter,  241. 
Heywood,  Jasper,  138, 
Hill,  Aaron,  338. 
Hill,  Rowland,  396. 
Hopkins,  John,  180. 
Home,  G.,  Bishop,  411. 
'  How  the  Goode  Wif,'  etc.,  85. 
Hughes,  John,  323, 
Hume,  Alex.,  191. 
Hunnis,  William,  165. 
Hurdis,  James,  420. 
Hymns,  344. 

James  i.  of  England,  192. 
James  iv.  of  Scotland,  108. 
'Jerusalem,'  178. 
Johnson,  Dr.  S.,  378. 
Jonson,  Ben,  206. 
Jonah,  Story  of,  63. 


Index. 


455 


Kempenfelt,  Comm.,  396. 
Ken,  T.,  Bishop,  308. 
King,  H.,  Bishop,  255. 
Kynwelmersh,  F.,  137. 

Lamb,  Charles,  442. 
Langland,  William,  74. 
Lauder,  William,  188. 
Layamon,  23,  30. 
Loe,  William,  221. 
Logan,  John,  448. 
Lok  (or  Locke),  Henry,  158. 
Lowth,  W. ,  Bishop,  411. 
'  Lutel  Soth  Sermoun,'  40. 
Lydgate,  John,  88. 
Lyndesay,  Sir  David,  185. 

Madan,  Martin,  411. 
Mannyng,  Robert,  65. 
Margaret,  St.,  Legend  of,  41. 
Markham,  Gervase,  169. 
Mar  veil,  Andrew,  281. 
Mason,  John,  295. 
Mason,  William,  375. 
Medley,  Samuel,  400. 
Merrick,  James,  384. 
Milton,  John,  269. 
Minot,  Lawrence,  78. 
Miracle- Plays,  115. 
Montgomery,  Alex.,  190. 
Moore,  Henry,  402. 
Moralities,  125. 
More,  Hannah,  417. 
More,  Henry,  285. 
More,  Sir  Thomas,  128. 
Morrison,  John,  448. 
Mysteries,  1 15. 

Needham,  John,  401. 
Newton,  John,  405. 
New  Version  of  Psalms,  339. 
Nicholson,  Samuel,  169. 
Norris,  John,  300. 

'  Old  English  Miscellany,'  35. 
Old  Version  of  Psalms,  341. 
Olivers,  Thomas,  394. 
Orm,  or  Ormin,  25. 

Parker,     Matthew,     Archbishop, 

143- 
Parnell,  Thomas,  320. 
'Pearl,  The,' 60. 


Pembroke,  Countess  of,  149. 
Perronet,  Edward,  400. 
Pestel,  Thomas,  205. 
'Philibert,  Vision  of,'  loi. 

*  Piers  Plowman,'  74. 
Pitt,  Christopher,  338. 
*Poema  Morale,'  35. 
Pomfret,  John,  305. 
Pope,  Alexander,  330. 
Postgate,  Nicholas,  282. 

'  Pricke  of  Conscience,'  73. 
Prior,  Matthew,  321. 
Psalmody,  179,  342, 
Psalter,  Early  English,  59. 

Quarles,. Francis,  226. 

Quarles,  John,  258. 

'  Quia  Amore  Langueo,'  %t^. 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  176. 
•'  Ratis  Raving,'  iii. 
'  Revertere,'  100. 
Robert  of  Gloucester,  47. 
Robinson,  Robert,  398. 
Rolle,  Richard,  73. 
Romaine,  William,  405. 
Romances,  49. 
Roscommon,  Earl  of,  287. 
Rosse,  Alexander,  230. 
Rous,  Francis,  240. 
Rowe,  Elizabeth,  311. 
Rowlands,  Samuel,  168. 
Ryland,  John,  401. 

'Salomon  and  Saturn,'  19. 
Sandys,  George,  223. 
'Say-well  and  Do-well,'  141. 
'  Sea  Farer,  The,'  16. 
Seagrave,  Robert,  393. 
Shakespeare,  William,  157. 
Shenstone,  Joseph,  358. 
Shepherd,  Thomas,  304. 
Sherburne,  Sir  E. ,  299. 

*  Shippe  of  Safegarde,'  144. 
Shirley,  James,  248. 
Shirley,  Walter,  402. 
Shoreham,  William  de,  72. 
Shrubsole,  WiUiam,  401. 
Skelton,  Philip,  412. 
Smart,  Christopher,  380. 
Southey,  Robert,  433. 
Southwell,  Robert,  160. 


456 


Index. 


Spenser,  Edmund,  153. 
Standfast,  Richard,  247. 
Steele,  Anne,  399. 
Stennett,  Joseph,  358. 
Stennett,  Samuel,  399. 
Sternhold,  Thomas,  180. 
Stirling,  Earl  of,  225. 
Surrey,  Earl  of,  132. 
Swain,  Joseph,  401. 
Sydney,  Sir  Philip,  148. 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  Bishop,  248, 
Thomas,  Elizabeth,  324, 
Thompson,  William,  380. 
Thomson,  James,  359. 
Thynne,  Francis,  143. 
Tickell,  Thomas,  336. 
Toplady,  Augustus,  403. 
Tusser,  Thomas,  140. 

Vaughan,  Henry,  296. 
Vaux,  Thomas,  Lord,  134. 


Vercelli  Codex,  6. 

Waller,  Edmund,  262. 
Wallin,  Benjamin,  401. 
'Wanderer,  The,'  14. 
Watts,  Isaac,  347. 
Wedderburn,  J.  and  R.,  l8l. 
Wesley,  Charles,  387. 
Wesley,  John,  392. 
Wesley,  Samuel,  sen.,  314. 
Wesley,  Samuel,  jun.,  316. 
Westmoreland,  Earl  of,  241. 

Wigglesworth, ,  243. 

Winchelsea,  Countess  of,  310, 
Wither,  George,  250, 
Wordsworth,  William,  437. 
Wotton,  Sir  Henry,  223. 
Wotton,  John,  102. 
Wyat,  Sir  Thomas,  132. 


Yalden,  Thomas,  324 
Young,  Edward,  365. 


Vk 


Printed  by  T.  and  A.  Constable,  Printers  to  Her  Majesty, 
at  the  Edinburgh  University  Press. 


%•-' 


^^ 


